<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0067" id="link2H_4_0067"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXVII </h2>
<p>If I show you, that you lack just what is most important and necessary to
happiness, that hitherto your attention has been bestowed on everything
rather than that which claims it most; and, to crown all, that you know
neither what God nor Man is—neither what Good or Evil is: why, that
you are ignorant of everything else, perhaps you may bear to be told; but
to hear that you know nothing of yourself, how could you submit to that?
How could you stand your ground and suffer that to be proved? Clearly not
at all. You instantly turn away in wrath. Yet what harm have I done to
you? Unless indeed the mirror harms the ill-favoured man by showing him to
himself just as he is; unless the physician can be thought to insult his
patient, when he tells him:—"Friend, do you suppose there is nothing
wrong with you? why, you have a fever. Eat nothing to-day, and drink only
water." Yet no one says, "What an insufferable insult!" Whereas if you say
to a man, "Your desires are inflamed, your instincts of rejection are weak
and low, your aims are inconsistent, your impulses are not in harmony with
Nature, your opinions are rash and false," he forthwith goes away and
complains that you have insulted him.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXVIII </h2>
<p>Our way of life resembles a fair. The flocks and herds are passing along
to be sold, and the greater part of the crowd to buy and sell. But there
are some few who come only to look at the fair, to inquire how and why it
is being held, upon what authority and with what object. So too, in this
great Fair of life, some, like the cattle, trouble themselves about
nothing but the fodder. Know all of you, who are busied about land, slaves
and public posts, that these are nothing but fodder! Some few there are
attending the Fair, who love to contemplate what the world is, what He
that administers it. Can there be no Administrator? is it possible, that
while neither city nor household could endure even a moment without one to
administer and see to its welfare, this Fabric, so fair, so vast, should
be administered in order so harmonious, without a purpose and by blind
chance? There is therefore an Administrator. What is His nature and how
does He administer? And who are we that are His children and what work
were we born to perform? Have we any close connection or relation with Him
or not?</p>
<p>Such are the impressions of the few of whom I speak. And further, they
apply themselves solely to considering and examining the great assembly
before they depart. Well, they are derided by the multitude. So are the
lookers-on by the traders: aye, and if the beasts had any sense, they
would deride those who thought much of anything but fodder!</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXIX </h2>
<p>I think I know now what I never knew before—the meaning of the
common saying, A fool you can neither bend nor break. Pray heaven I may
never have a wise fool for my friend! There is nothing more intractable.—"My
resolve is fixed!"—Why so madman say too; but the more firmly they
believe in their delusions, the more they stand in need of treatment.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXX </h2>
<p>—"O! when shall I see Athens and its Acropolis again?"—Miserable
man! art thou not contented with the daily sights that meet thine eyes?
canst thou behold aught greater or nobler than the Sun, Moon, and Stars;
than the outspread Earth and Sea? If indeed thou apprehendest Him who
administers the universe, if thou bearest Him about within thee, canst
thou still hanker after mere fragments of stone and fine rock? When thou
art about to bid farewell to the Sun and Moon itself, wilt thou sit down
and cry like a child? Why, what didst thou hear, what didst thou learn?
why didst thou write thyself down a philosopher, when thou mightest have
written what was the fact, namely, "I have made one or two Compendiums, I
have read some works of Chrysippus, and I have not even touched the hem of
Philosophy's robe!"</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXI </h2>
<p>Friend, lay hold with a desperate grasp, ere it is too late, on Freedom,
on Tranquility, on Greatness of soul! Lift up thy head, as one escaped
from slavery; dare to look up to God, and say:—"Deal with me
henceforth as Thou wilt; Thou and I are of one mind. I am Thine: I refuse
nothing that seeeth good to Thee; lead on whither Thou wilt; clothe me in
what garb Thou pleasest; wilt Thou have me a ruler or a subject—at
home or in exile—poor or rich? All these things will I justify unto
men for Thee. I will show the true nature of each. . . ."</p>
<p>Who would Hercules have been had he loitered at home? no Hercules, but
Eurystheus. And in his wanderings through the world how many friends and
comrades did he find? but nothing dearer to him than God. Wherefore he was
believed to be God's son, as indeed he was. So then in obedience to Him,
he went about delivering the earth from injustice and lawlessness.</p>
<p>But thou art not Hercules, thou sayest, and canst not deliver others from
their iniquity—not even Theseus, to deliver the soil of Attica from
its monsters? Purge away thine own, cast forth thence—from thine own
mind, not robbers and monsters, but Fear, Desire, Envy, Malignity,
Avarice, Effeminacy, Intemperance. And these may not be cast out, except
by looking to God alone, by fixing thy affections on Him only, and by
consecrating thyself to His commands. If thou choosest aught else, with
sighs and groans thou wilt be forced to follow a Might greater than thine
own, ever seeking Tranquillity without, and never able to attain unto her.
For thou seekest her where she is not to be found; and where she is, there
thou seekest her not!</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXII </h2>
<p>If a man would pursue Philosophy, his first task is to throw away conceit.
For it is impossible for a man to begin to learn what he has a conceit
that he already knows.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXIII </h2>
<p>Give me but one young man, that has come to the School with this
intention, who stands forth a champion of this cause, and says, "All else
I renounce, content if I am but able to pass my life free from hindrance
and trouble; to raise my head aloft and face all things as a free man; to
look up to heaven as a friend of God, fearing nothing that may come to
pass!" Point out such a one to me, that I may say, "Enter, young man, into
possession of that which is thine own. For thy lot is to adorn Philosophy.
Thine are these possessions; thine these books, these discourses!"</p>
<p>And when our champion has duly exercised himself in this part of the
subject, I hope he will come back to me and say:—"What I desire is
to be free from passion and from perturbation; as one who grudges no pains
in the pursuit of piety and philosophy, what I desire is to know my duty
to the Gods, my duty to my parents, to my brothers, to my country, to
strangers."</p>
<p>"Enter then on the second part of the subject; it is thine also."</p>
<p>"But I have already mastered the second part; only I wished to stand firm
and unshaken—as firm when asleep as when awake, as firm when elated
with wine as in despondency and dejection."</p>
<p>"Friend, you are verily a God! you cherish great designs."</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXIV </h2>
<p>"The question at stake," said Epictetus, "is no common one; it is this:—Are
we in our senses, or are we not?"</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXV </h2>
<p>If you have given way to anger, be sure that over and above the evil
involved therein, you have strengthened the habit, and added fuel to the
fire. If overcome by a temptation of the flesh, do not reckon it a single
defeat, but that you have also strengthened your dissolute habits. Habits
and faculties are necessarily affected by the corresponding acts. Those
that were not there before, spring up: the rest gain in strength and
extent. This is the account which Philosophers give of the origin of
diseases of the mind:—Suppose you have once lusted after money: if
reason sufficient to produce a sense of evil be applied, then the lust is
checked, and the mind at once regains its original authority; whereas if
you have recourse to no remedy, you can no longer look for this return—on
the contrary, the next time it is excited by the corresponding object, the
flame of desire leaps up more quickly than before. By frequent repetition,
the mind in the long run becomes callous; and thus this mental disease
produces confirmed Avarice.</p>
<p>One who has had fever, even when it has left him, is not in the same
condition of health as before, unless indeed his cure is complete.
Something of the same sort is true also of diseases of the mind. Behind,
there remains a legacy of traces and blisters: and unless these are
effectually erased, subsequent blows on the same spot will produce no
longer mere blisters, but sores. If you do not wish to be prone to anger,
do not feed the habit; give it nothing which may tend its increase. At
first, keep quiet and count the days when you were not angry: "I used to
be angry every day, then every other day: next every two, next every three
days!" and if you succeed in passing thirty days, sacrifice to the Gods in
thanksgiving.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXVI </h2>
<p>How then may this be attained?—Resolve, now if never before, to
approve thyself to thyself; resolve to show thyself fair in God's sight;
long to be pure with thine own pure self and God!</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXVII </h2>
<p>That is the true athlete, that trains himself to resist such outward
impressions as these.</p>
<p>"Stay, wretched man! suffer not thyself to be carried away!" Great is the
combat, divine the task! you are fighting for Kingship, for Liberty, for
Happiness, for Tranquillity. Remember God: call upon Him to aid thee, like
a comrade that stands beside thee in the fight.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXVIII </h2>
<p>Who then is a Stoic—in the sense that we call a statue of Phidias
which is modelled after that master's art? Show me a man in this sense
modelled after the doctrines that are ever upon his lips. Show me a man
that is sick—and happy; an exile—and happy; in evil report—and
happy! Show me him, I ask again. So help me Heaven, I long to see one
Stoic! Nay, if you cannot show me one fully modelled, let me at least see
one in whom the process is at work—one whose bent is in that
direction. Do me that favour! Grudge it not to an old man, to behold a
sight he has never yet beheld. Think you I wish to see the Zeus or Athena
of Phidias, bedecked with gold and ivory?—Nay, show me, one of you,
a human soul, desiring to be of one mind with God, no more to lay blame on
God or man, to suffer nothing to disappoint, nothing to cross him, to
yield neither to anger, envy, nor jealousy—in a word, why disguise
the matter? one that from a man would fain become a God; one that while
still imprisoned in this dead body makes fellowship with God his aim. Show
me him!—Ah, you cannot! Then why mock yourselves and delude others?
why stalk about tricked out in other men's attire, thieves and robbers
that you are of names and things to which you can show no title!</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXIX </h2>
<p>If you have assumed a character beyond your strength, you have both played
a poor figure in that, and neglected one that is within your powers.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXX </h2>
<p>Fellow, you have come to blows at home with a slave: you have turned the
household upside down, and thrown the neighbourhood into confusion; and do
you come to me then with airs of assumed modesty—do you sit down
like a sage and criticise my explanation of the readings, and whatever
idle babble you say has come into my head? Have you come full of envy, and
dejected because nothing is sent you from home; and while the discussion
is going on, do you sit brooding on nothing but how your father or your
brother are disposed towards you:—"What are they saying about me
there? at this moment they imagine I am making progress and saying, He
will return perfectly omniscient! I wish I could become omniscient before
I return; but that would be very troublesome. No one sends me anything—the
baths at Nicopolis are dirty; things are wretched at home and wretched
here." And then they say, "Nobody is any the better for the School."—Who
comes to the School with a sincere wish to learn: to submit his principles
to correction and himself to treatment? Who, to gain a sense of his wants?
Why then be surprised if you carry home from the School exactly what you
bring into it?</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0081" id="link2H_4_0081"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXXI </h2>
<p>"Epictetus, I have often come desiring to hear you speak, and you have
never given me any answer; now if possible, I entreat you, say something
to me."</p>
<p>"Is there, do you think," replied Epictetus, "an art of speaking as of
other things, if it is to be done skilfully and with profit to the
hearer?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"And are all profited by what they hear, or only some among them? So that
it seems there is an art of hearing as well as of speaking. . . . To make
a statue needs skill: to view a statue aright needs skill also."</p>
<p>"Admitted."</p>
<p>"And I think all will allow that one who proposes to hear philosophers
speak needs a considerable training in hearing. Is that not so? The tell
me on what subject your are able to hear me."</p>
<p>"Why, on good and evil."</p>
<p>"The good and evil of what? a horse, an ox?"</p>
<p>"No; of a man."</p>
<p>"Do we know then what Man is? what his nature is? what is the idea we have
of him? And are our ears practised in any degree on the subject? Nay, do
you understand what Nature is? can you follow me in any degree when I say
that I shall have to use demonstration? Do you understand what
Demonstration is? what True or False is? . . . must I drive you to
Philosophy? . . . Show me what good I am to do by discoursing with you.
Rouse my desire to do so. The sight of a pasture it loves stirs in a sheep
the desire to feed: show it a stone or a bit of bread and it remains
unmoved. Thus we also have certain natural desires, aye, and one that
moves us to speak when we find a listener that is worth his salt: one that
himself stirs the spirit. But if he sits by like a stone or a tuft of
grass, how can he rouse a man's desire?"</p>
<p>"Then you will say nothing to me?"</p>
<p>"I can only tell you this: that one who knows not who he is and to what
end he was born; what kind of world this is and with whom he is associated
therein; one who cannot distinguish Good and Evil, Beauty and Foulness, .
. . Truth and Falsehood, will never follow Reason in shaping his desires
and impulses and repulsions, nor yet in assent, denial, or suspension of
judgement; but will in one word go about deaf and blind, thinking himself
to be somewhat, when he is in truth of no account. Is there anything new
in all this? Is not this ignorance the cause of all the mistakes and
mischances of men since the human race began? . . ."</p>
<p>"This is all I have to say to you, and even this against the grain. Why?
Because you have not stirred my spirit. For what can I see in you to stir
me, as a spirited horse will stir a judge of horses? Your body? That you
maltreat. Your dress? That is luxurious. You behavior, your look?—Nothing
whatever. When you want to hear a philosopher, do not say, You say nothing
to me'; only show yourself worthy or fit to hear, and then you will see
how you will move the speaker."</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXXII </h2>
<p>And now, when you see brothers apparently good friends and living in
accord, do not immediately pronounce anything upon their friendship,
though they should affirm it with an oath, though they should declare,
"For us to live apart in a thing impossible!" For the heart of a bad man
is faithless, unprincipled, inconstant: now overpowered by one impression,
now by another. Ask not the usual questions, Were they born of the same
parents, reared together, and under the same tutor; but ask this only, in
what they place their real interest—whether in outward things or in
the Will. If in outward things, call them not friends, any more than
faithful, constant, brave or free: call them not even human beings, if you
have any sense. . . . But should you hear that these men hold the Good to
lie only in the Will, only in rightly dealing with the things of sense,
take no more trouble to inquire whether they are father and son or
brothers, or comrades of long standing; but, sure of this one thing,
pronounce as boldly that they are friends as that they are faithful and
just: for where else can Friendship be found than where Modesty is, where
there is an interchange of things fair and honest, and of such only?</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0083" id="link2H_4_0083"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXXIII </h2>
<h3> No man can rob us of our Will—no man can lord it over that! </h3>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0084" id="link2H_4_0084"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXXIV </h2>
<p>When disease and death overtake me, I would fain be found engaged in the
task of liberating mine own Will from the assaults of passion, from
hindrance, from resentment, from slavery.</p>
<p>Thus would I fain to be found employed, so that I may say to God, "Have I
in aught transgressed Thy commands? Have I in aught perverted the
faculties, the senses, the natural principles that Thou didst give me?
Have I ever blamed Thee or found fault with Thine administration? When it
was Thy good pleasure, I fell sick—and so did other men: by my will
consented. Because it was Thy pleasure, I became poor: but my heart
rejoiced. No power in the State was mine, because Thou wouldst not: such
power I never desired! Hast Thou ever seen me of more doleful countenance
on that account? Have I not ever drawn nigh unto Thee with cheerful look,
waiting upon Thy commands, attentive to Thy signals? Wilt Thou that I now
depart from the great Assembly of men? I go: I give Thee all thanks, that
Thou hast deemed me worthy to take part with Thee in this Assembly: to
behold Thy works, to comprehend this Thine administration."</p>
<p>Such I would were the subject of my thoughts, my pen, my study, when death
overtakes me.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0085" id="link2H_4_0085"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXXV </h2>
<p>Seemeth it nothing to you, never to accuse, never to blame either God or
Man? to wear ever the same countenance in going forth as in coming in?
This was the secret of Socrates: yet he never said that he knew or taught
anything. . . . Who amongst you makes this his aim? Were it indeed so, you
would gladly endure sickness, hunger, aye, death itself.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0086" id="link2H_4_0086"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXXVI </h2>
<p>How are we constituted by Nature? To be free, to be noble, to be modest
(for what other living thing is capable of blushing, or of feeling the
impression of shame?) and to subordinate pleasure to the ends for which
Nature designed us, as a handmaid and a minister, in order to call forth
our activity; in order to keep us constant to the path prescribed by
Nature.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0087" id="link2H_4_0087"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXXVII </h2>
<p>The husbandman deals with land; physicians and trainers with the body; the
wise man with his own Mind.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0088" id="link2H_4_0088"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXXVIII </h2>
<p>Which of us does not admire what Lycurgus the Spartan did? A young citizen
had put out his eye, and been handed over to him by the people to be
punished at his own discretion. Lycurgus abstained from all vengeance, but
on the contrary instructed and made a good man of him. Producing him in
public in the theatre, he said to the astonished Spartans:—"I
received this young man at your hands full of violence and wanton
insolence; I restore him to you in his right mind and fit to serve his
country."</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0089" id="link2H_4_0089"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LXXXIX </h2>
<p>A money-changer may not reject C�sar's coin, nor may the seller of herbs,
but must when once the coin is shown, deliver what is sold for it, whether
he will or no. So is it also with the Soul. Once the Good appears, it
attracts towards itself; evil repels. But a clear and certain impression
of the Good the Soul will never reject, any more than men do C�sar's coin.
On this hangs every impulse alike of Man and God.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0090" id="link2H_4_0090"></SPAN></p>
<h2> XC </h2>
<p>Asked what Common Sense was, Epictetus replied:—</p>
<p>As that may be called a Common Ear which distinguishes only sounds, while
that which distinguishes musical notes is not common but produced by
training; so there are certain things which men not entirely perverted see
by the natural principles common to all. Such a constitution of the Mind
is called Common Sense.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0091" id="link2H_4_0091"></SPAN></p>
<h2> XCI </h2>
<p>Canst thou judge men? . . . then make us imitators of thyself, as Socrates
did. Do this, do not do that, else will I cast thee into prison; this is
not governing men like reasonable creatures. Say rather, As God hath
ordained, so do; else thou wilt suffer chastisement and loss. Askest thou
what loss? None other than this: To have left undone what thou shouldst
have done: to have lost the faithfulness, the reverence, the modesty that
is in thee! Greater loss than this seek not to find!</p>
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