commentary on epictetus 3

7/30/2019 commentary on epictetus 3

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Commentary on Epictetus' Enchiridion

(Chapters 4-8)

by Simpliciu s (c. early sixth centu ry)

Chapter. IV.

Since therefore the Advantages, you propose to yourself, are so valuable, remember, that

you out not to content yourself w ith a cold and moderate pursuit of them; but that some

things must be wholly laid aside, and others you must be content to suspend for awhile.

But if you will needs be grasping at both, and expect to compass these, and at the same

time attain unto honors and riches too; there w ill be great hazard of y our losing the latter,

by pursuing the former; Or if no so; yet you will be sure to find yourself frustrated in a ll

that can make you free and happy, w hile you pursue the latter.

Comment.

Having directed u s, what i t is we are to expect happiness from, and h ow desirable the life

of such persons must needs be, who depend not upon external enjoyments, and th ings

out of their power for it , but place it in their own natu ral liberty, and wh at falls with in

the compass of that: t hat such a l ife is above all molestation and cont rol, safe from the

assau lts of any il l accident, n ot only advantageous, bu t easy and delight ful too, t he good

it desir es never deceivi ng, th e evil i t decli nes never overt ak in g, but in one word,

exquisit ely h appy, and di vinely b lest; h e now pr oceeds to excite in h is reader, a zeal

worthy of such mighty expectations; and tells him, that he must not look upon this as a

business by the by, while his main design and care is for somethin g else; bu t t hat his

pains and h is affection m ust be so ent irely devoted to th is one th ing, as not to admi t of

anything besides, into a partnership with it.

The external enjoyments of the world th en m ust fit so loose abou t h is heart , th at, as

many of them as are inconsistent with a vir tu ous conversati on, and the ru les of right

reason, (such as excess and sensu al pleasure, and sord id wealth, and power, and

ambit ion,) must be absolu tely discarded. It being impossible, th at any m an, who makes

these his concern, should, at the same time preserve his own freedom, and innocence,

good, provided th ey be managed wi th discretion; such as a decent dwellin g, a competent

equipage, the satisfactions of marriage, the care of continuing a good family, the exercise

of just authority, and some degree of solicitude and pains for the providing all necessary

supports: these, and all the rest of the like nature, he advises his scholars to supersede,


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for some convenient time at least. And that for very good reason; it being necessary, that

they who would be tr ul y and eminentl y good, should make the exercise of vir tue their

whole business and constan t study, and suffer no other thing whatsoever to divert them

from it .

Whoever proposes to himself, not merely to be popular, and impose upon the world with

a dissembled virt ue, but to answer the character of a sincere and tr ul y good man, must

take care of two th ings. First, he mu st at t ain t o such a degree of wi sdom , as may

enable hi m t o dist i nguish, bet ween what wi l l really make for h is advantage, and

what wi l l t urn t o his prejudice: and then secondly, he must k eep under hi s brut ish

appeti t es, t hat t hey m ay never r evolt , nor rebel against reason; but m ay be so

ready and observant t o it , as to m ove, only at such t im es, and i n such proport ions,

and t oward such objects, as th e reasonable soul shall l im it and prescri be t o t hem.

For men are betr ayed in to vice two ways. Either for want of the understanding being

sufficiently enlightened, when we do not discern what is good and proper to be done; or

else, thr ough t he un govern ableness of the affections and sensual appeti tes; when,

though the mind hath a notion, though but a weak and imperfect one, of what ought to

be done, yet the passions mutiny and make head, usu rp a power that belongs not to

them, and overr u le the calm ju dgment of sober reason. Thu s the Tragedian int roduces

Medea, complain ing of the impotence of her m ind, when abou t t o murder her chi ldren;

Remorse and sense of guilt draw back my soul,

But stronger passion does her powers control;

With rage tr ansported, I push boldly on,

And see the precipice I cannot shun.

innocence, th at a man provide himself with a competent degree of knowledge and

prudence, and r educe hi s appet i t es t o moderat ion and obedience. And when h e

engages in business and conversation, that he be sure to do it cautiously and

seasonable, and t o put on th is im penetrable arm or. For th is reason, Epictetus is ur gent

with his youn g beginners to suspend even those th ings, that are consistent with virt ue,

for awh ile; till time and pr acti ce have confir med their good habit s, and qualified them to

use the world wit h safety and discretion. For, as it is rashn ess and folly t o go in t o t he

field unarm ed; so it is, t o engage wit h t he world, t i l l a man hat h fort if i ed him self

wit h t emper and prudence.


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Bu t he acquaint s us farth er; t hat, for t hose, who as yet are but raw and inexperienced in

virt ue, to employ themselves in busin ess and worldly care, is not only i nconvenient and

hazardous, but ri diculous and vain, and to no manner of purpose. They, that place their

fail of pru dence and moderati on, and cannot havein clin at ions and aversions

grounded upon, and governed by, right reason, which are the only things that

m ake m en fr ee, and easy, and happy. For they mu st of necessity li ve in subjection to

their wild and brutish passions, which lord it over them, like so many cruel masters, or

enraged tyrants. They must also live perpetually in a slavish fear of all those men, in

whose power it is, eith er to gratify t heir h opes, or to obstru ct and defeat t hem; who can

in tercept the good they wish, or in flict t he ills t hey fear; lest they should exert th is power

to their prejudice.

Besides all t his, wh en our care and concern is laid out upon the seeming good t hin gs

without us, it exposes us to disappoin tment s in our tr ue happiness, by tak ing off ou r

care from those thin gs that are more properly ours. For they, who divide their desires

and endeavors between both, do neither make a ju st di stinction between those thin gs

that are, and those that are not, really good; nor do they express a becoming concern, for

that which is their own peculiar happiness; nor bestow the pains about it that it

deserves: and ti ll they do so, it is im possible they should att ain t o it. For t he most part

th erefore, they fall short of those extern al advantages th ey pr opose to t hemselves,

because they do not apply t heir m inds to these ent irely, bu t now and t hen are divert ed

by desires and endeavors after their true and proper happiness; and out of a secret

shame and consciousness, that t his requi res their care, fall int o such perplexities and

distr actions, as restrain and stop their career, and wi ll n ot suffer t hem to do nor to

endure, everything that is necessary for obtaining the false good they chiefly pursue.

Now, though such a divided life as this, must be acknowledged to be less vicious, than

that which addicts itself wholly to the world, without any check or interruption at all; yet

it cannot bu t be exceeding troublesome and uneasy; mu ch more so indeed, than th at of

the worldling. For it is one cont in ual labor in vain, ever st ri vin g t o reconcile

contradictions, full of perpetual inconsistencies and remorses, dislike of ones own

actions, and eternal self-condemnation. So that it must needs be infinitely painful and

detestable.


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Bu t i t i s wort h our t akin g notice, that Epictetus, u pon these occasions, does frequentl y

in the following discour ses, admonish and awaken us wit h a Remember . The reason of

which is, that he addresses himself to the rati onal soul; wh ich, th ough i t be natu rally

and essent ially endued with ju st ideas of th ings, and hath an inbred facu lt y of

discern ing and adhering to tru th , yet finds bu t t oo often, t hat t his eye of reason is

darkened, hath dim and confused representations of thin gs imposed upon i t, by the

material pr inciple, to which it is un ited; and by th is means is betr ayed int o ignorance

and forgetfulness, the true cause of all its miscarriages and all its miseries. So that,

considered in these circumstances, it stands in need of a contin ual moni tor t o rouse it

into thought and remembrance.

But when he says, that a man who proposes to himself advantages so valuable, ought

not t o be content with a moderate prosecut ion of them; t his expression is not t o be

understood, as we take it, when used to distinguish between moderation and excess, but

is in tended here of th e defect, and signi fies a sup ine neglect, and cold i ndi fference. For

where our happiness and our all is at stake, there, as Pindar expresses himself,

Distress and danger should our courage fire,

Move generous t hought, and br ave resolves inspire.

Chapter. V.

When therefore any fr ightful and discouraging imagination assaults you, harden yourself,

and meet it boldly , w ith th is reflection, that it is only our apprehension of th ings, and not

the real nature of the things themselves. Then bring it to the test, and examine it by such

rules of morali ty as you are masters of; but especially by this most material d istinction, of

things that are, or are not, in our power. And if, upon enquiry , it be found one of the latter

sort, remember, that it is w hat y ou are not at all concerned in, and slight it accord ingly.

Comment.

He had told us, th at th e man, who proposes to him self the att ainment of vir tu e and

happiness, mu st be constant and in defatigable, and not su ffer the world, or any of its

temptati ons, to seduce or draw him off from t he pursuit of it. Bu t since, even t hey, who

do make these things their study and care, are yet subject to frequent fancies and

apprehensions: some that put them upon desiring some of those external advantages,

and others th at terrify th em with calamiti es of th at ki nd; he informs us here, how to

manage such apprehensions, so as to receive no inconvenience from them. And t hese

apprehensions he calls frightful and discouraging; because they are extravagant and


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s life with a world of terr ors and troubles, by the excess

and irregularity of their motions.

In the following discourses, he advi ses more at large, not t o be hu rr ied away, and

im mediat ely t ransport ed wit h any i maginat ion. Wheth er i t t end t o hope or fear;

and h ere he says much t he same th in g in fewer words; t hat a man ought t o harden

and set hi mself again st it , and di sarm it of al l i t s force, by th is considerat ion, t hat

it is but a fancy of our own, and no m ore. Now our fancies, we know, do someti mes

give us the representations of things as they really are, as in things that are indeed

pleasant and beneficial; and sometimes they delude us with wild inconsistencies, gaudy

vani ties, and empty dreams. Bu t the strength of these represent ations depends u pon the

impressions, which t hey make in our minds. And t his i s exceedingly weakened, by

mak ing that single consideration habitu al to us. That t here is very often a wide

difference, bet ween t he t hi ngs t hemselves, and t he represent at ions of t hem t o us:

for, when once we are thus fixed, no violence they can use, will be able to jostle out our

reason, or pervert our judgment; which he tells us, as soon as we have allayed the heat

of the imagination, and m ade our minds quiet and calm, shoul d be present ly employed,

in a nice examination of the idea represented to us.

Now there are several rules to try it by: some taken from the nature of these ideas

themselves, and the things they represent; as, whether they be such objects as tend to

the good of the mind, or whether they concern our bodies, or our fort un es only: wh ether

they cont ri bu te to any real advant age, or whether pleasure is the only t hin g they can

pretend to: whether what they propose be feasible, or not; there is likewise another

method, wh ich p roceeds upon th e judgment of wise and u nwise men, and t he concern

they express for th em; bu t especially, upon the judgment and determ inations of

Almighty God. For that, which God himself, and wise and good men have approved of,

everyone that consults the safety and happiness of his soul, must needs be convinced,

will challenge his greatest care and concern; as on the contrary, whatever they dislike

and condemn , ought by all means to be detested and avoided. And no man yet ever

arrived to that degree of folly, or was so far blinded by passion and lust, as to persuade

himself, that in justice, and lu xu ry, and excess, are th ings well -pleasing to God.

But t hough t here are many r ules whi ch m ay be servi ceable t o us, in dist i nguishing

bet ween t he several i deas and t he t hi ngs t hey r epresent ; yet t here is one pecul iar

t o m en, considered as m en; and wh ich is of general use upon all occasi ons. And


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t hi s depends upon th e dist in ct ion of t hi ngs t hat are, and t hi ngs t hat are not in our

own power.For if t he object t hat pr esent s it self, as a t hi ng invi t in g our desir e, or

provok in g our aversion, be out of our own di sposal; th e ready cour se t o be t aken,

is, to sat isfy ourselves, and t o dismiss it wit h t hi s answer, t hat t hi s is no part of

our concern . For i t is im possible for anyt hi ng to be st ri ct ly good or evil t o us,

whi ch is not wi t hin our own power; because t he freedom of t he wil l i s t he tr ue

specif i c dif ference of hum an natur e. The very being of a creature thus qualified,

necessarily infers this prerogative, that all its good, and all its evil, shall depend merely

upon it s own choice.

Chapter. VI.

Remember, that the thing, which recommends any desire, is a promise and prospect of

obtaining the object you are in pursuit of; as on the contrary , the thing, which your

aversion aims at, and proposes to you, is the escaping the evil you fear. And in these

cases, he, that is balked of his desires, is an unfortunate man; and he, that is overtak en

by the mischief he declines, is a miserable man. But now, if you confine your aversions to

those evils only, which are at the disposal of your own w ill; y ou can be never overtak en by

any calamity you w ould decline; but if y ou extend them to such things, as sickness, or

poverty , or death, you will of necessity be miserable.

Chapter. VII.

Let your aversions then be taken off f rom all things out of your own power, and transferred

to such things as are contrary to nature, wi thin y our own power. And as for desires, lay

them for the present, wholly aside: for if you fix them upon th ings out of your power, you

are sure to be unsuccessful; and if you w ould restrain them to fi t and proper objects, such

as come within it, know this is not come to your turn yet. Let your mind therefore go no

farther than the mere tendencies and propensions, to moderate and use these gently,

gradually, and cautiously.

Comment.

This now follows in a direct method, from what went before, and is, as it were, a

demonstration of the tru th of the last chapter: wh ere we were told, that our

apprehensions and ideas of things desirable must be regulated by that necessary

distinction of what is, and what is not within our own power. The observation of this rule

would be sure to make us successful and happy, and the neglect of it un fort unate and

wretched. To t hi s purpose, his fi rst busin ess i s, t o expl ain, what sort of persons we


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use t o esteem l ucky or unl ucky ; and h e tells u s, that t he end our aversions propose to

themselves, is, not to fall into the mischief we endeavor to decline; so that in this case,

the missing our object i s fort un ate; as on the cont rary, i t i s un fort un ate, in cases of

desire, when we do not get our object. And the misfort une opposite to good success is,

when the thing we would avoid does happen to us; for here we get our object indeed, but

then t his gett ing is to our pr ejudice, and what we might m uch better have been wi thout .

When he hath set these matt ers in a true light, then h e proceeds thus. If you take care

to make those thin gs onl y, the objects of your aversions, which are cont rary to natu re,

and wi th in the compass of your own choice, as intemperance for example, and in ju stice,

and the like; you can never be overtaken by anything you fear, because in these matters

you m ay be sure to escape if you please; and consequent ly, you are sure never to be

unfortu nate. But if, instead of these you pit ch upon sickness, or povert y, or any of those

th ings that are ou t of your own disposal; you mu st needs fall i nt o calamitous

circumstances sometimes, because it cannot depend upon yourself, whether you shall

be delivered from these or not. So again for desire, that man cannot secure himself

against fr equent disappoint ments, who fixes upon objects out of his own power. But if

our desires and our aversions be confined to matt ers wi th in our own power and choice;

then i t will not be possible for us t o be balked in our hopes, or overtaken by our fears,

bu t happiness and success will attend us cont inually.

The substance and connection of all which , in short, lies here. He t hat ext ends his

desi res and hi s aversion s, t o th in gs out of t he disposal of his own wil l, very

fr equent ly m i sses hi s aim , fall s short i n hi s hopes, and i s overt aken by his fears;

and he mu st n eeds do so, because th ese th in gs depend not on h i m self , upon

ot hers. Now such a one i s confessed t o be an unsuccessful and u nf ort unat e person,

and t herefore wretch ed and m iserable.

occasion, and accommodates himself to h is hearers, so as, by descend ing to their

notions, to raise them u p h igher to something bett er and more perfect. For, t hat

and dangers t hey fear, is t he general notion men have of it; and thus far men of all

persuasions, and the most distant tempers and conversations, agree. Bu t then herein

they differ, t hat they do not employ th eir desires and aversions alik e. For t he wise and

vi rt uous pursue such object s onl y, as are reall y pr ofi t able and good, and avoi d only


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t he tr uly m ischievous and subst ant ial evils; and t hi s th ey do, by t he free guidance

of t heir reason, and t he due governm ent of t heir passions; for t he brut ish appet it es

in t hem are so subdued, so discipli ned by acts of obedi ence to t he judgment , th at

t hey do not so much as t hi nk anyt hi ng pleasant but what reason h at h approved,

and found t o be so.But t he general i t y of m ank ind, part ly for want of duly

im proving their j udgments, and part ly f rom t heir brut ish af fect i ons being kept i n

perpetual comm oti on and disorder, dist i nguish t he objects of th eir desir e, by no

oth er mark t han pleasure; wit hout examin in g, whether t hi s pleasure be such as

makes for t heir t rue advant age, or not : and t hese men oft en hi t upon very im pure

and insi ncere pleasur es; such as carr y a mix t ur e and all ay of pain along wi t h t hem.

For, in tr u th , they are not really and pr operly pleasures, but only the empt y shadows

and false resemblances of pleasure. Yet sti ll , as was said before, all mankin d are agreed

in the general, th at pr osperi ty and success consist in obtainin g the good t hings we wish,

and k eeping off th e evils we fear. So that even t he sensu al and most vicious men may

convince themselves from this discourse, that the true way never to be disappointed in

their desires, or overt aken by their fears, is, to agree, th at those th ings which are with in

our power, are the only good and proper objects of desire; and that the evils in our own

power are the only noxious and destructive, and proper objects of fear and hatred. So i t

is plain , th at t hey, who f ix upon t hi ngs wit hout t heir power, must n eeds fall short

very frequent ly of t heir h opes, and l ose what t hey desir e, and endure what t hey

fear: and t hi s is what even v ici ous persons ack nowledge t o be a great m i sfort une.

Let then, says he, your aversions be taken off from all th ings out of your own power, and

tr ansferr ed to such th ings as are contrary to natu re, within your power. For if you place

them u pon sickness, or povert y, or t he like, you mu st unavoidably be unfortun ate,

because these are things not in your power to escape. For, though we can contribute

considerably towards the avoidin g of them, yet th e thin g is not wholly and absolu tely in

ourselves; but it will depend u pon various other cir cumstances and accidents, whether

our endeavors shall succeed, or not. But, if we would follow his advice, take off your

fears from th ese th ings, and pu t t hem upon those within our own choice, which are

prejudi cial and against natu re: if, for i nstance, we would m ake it our care to avoid

erroneous opinions, and false apprehensions of things, and whatever else can be any

obstruction to a good conversation, and such a life, as reason and nature have made

suitable to our character; we should never be oppressed with any of the calamities we


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fear, because it is in our own power absolutely t o avoid th ese th ings. For noth ing more

th an our own aversions and r esolu tions is r equisite to the doing this effectually.

All here is sufficiently plain, and needs no enlargement; bu t t hat wh ich follows hath

somethin g of difficu lty in i t. For what can be hi s meaning in th at advice, th at all desire

should for the present be wholly laid aside? There is a manifest reason, why we should

discharge all t hose desires, th at concern th ings without our power; because thi s

evident ly m akes for our advantage, both in regard of the disappoin tment s and perpetu al

uneasinesses, which th is course delivers us from; and also in consideration of the things

themselves, which, t hough we should suppose no such tr oubles and disappoin tment s

attending them, are yet n ot capable of bri nging us any real advantage, nor th at, whi ch is

the proper happiness of a man.

Bu t what shall we say to hi s forbidding the desire, even of those good t hings, wh ich

come within the disposal of our own wills? The reason he gives is this, because you are

not yet come to th is. Bu t if you were come to it , there wou ld then be no fart her occasion

for desir e; for th is is no oth er t han a mot ion of t he min d desir in g, by whi ch it

reaches forward to what i t is not y et come to . And this seems to cut off all desire in

general: for how is it possible to obtain any good, wit hout first desiring it ? Especially, if

(as hath been formerly shown) the good and happiness of a man consist, not so much in

acti ons, and the effecting what he wou ld, as in the entert ainin g such desires and

aversions, as are agreeable to natu re and r eason; what ground can t here be for

suspending all our desires, and u tt erly forbidding us for a wh ile to ent ert ain any at all ?

Or how can we imagine it possible, for a man to live void of all desire? I add, that this

looks lik e a direct contr adiction t o what went before, when i n t he 4th chapter he gave

th is advice, since therefore the advantages you propose to yourself are so exceedin g

valu able, remember, th at you ought not to content yourself wi th a cold and moderate

pur suit of them. For by th at pur suit h e did not un derstand any bodily motion, but t he

eagerness of the soul, by which, in the act of desiring, she moves towards, and makes

after the object. And again, how can we suppose any affections and propensions without

desire? For t he order of th ings in fers a necessity, before there can be any su ch affections

and propensions of the soul.

In answer to these objections, it may be replied, that Epictetus here addresses himself to

young beginn ers in phi losophy; for whom it cann ot be safe to i ndu lge any desires at all,

ti ll t hey be first competent ly in form ed, what are the objects which they ought to fix u pon.


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And so that these affections and propensions of the soul are to be understood, only of

those f i rst m ot ions to or from its objects, which, the Stoics contend, are always

antecedent to desire and aversions.

Or if he directs his discour se to men already inst ru cted; then we must not in terpret th e

words as they seem to sound; nor may we suppose, that he intends to cut off all desire of

the good t hings in our power, absolutely speaking; bu t only to restr ain the vehemence

and eagerness of that aversion and desire, which in a moderate degree he is content to

allow. For you see, th at he advises in th e very same place, to make use of ou r

propensions and affections of the soul gent ly, gradually, and caut iously. For we mu st

necessari ly m ove, t owards the object of your desires, and from th at wh ich is our

aversion; bu t our desir es and aversions are ant ecedent t o such m ot ion s to and from

t he object , and do pr oduce th em, as causes do t heir proper effects.

Again, when he advised before, that men would not content themselves with a cold and

moderate pur suit of such valu able advant ages, it was no part of his int ent ion, to

recommend an eager and violent desire; but rather, that we should be fixed and resolved

in th is prosecut ion, as to satisfy ou rselves in doing what he adds him self immediately

after, the abandoning some enjoyments for all together, and the suspending of others for

some convenient time.

Now a vehement degree in any of t hese thi ngs, eit her t he propensit ies of t he mi nd,

or t he desires and aversions of it , is wit h great reason condemn ed; because of t he

il l consequences it is apt t o have, when m en shoot beyond t he mark t hr ough an

excess of desire, and att empt t hi ngs above t heir str engt h. For th is usually t ends t o

t he weakenin g of t he soul, as m uch as overstr aini ng in jur es t he body. And th is is an

inconvenience, wh ich many have found experimentall y from the imm oderate violence

and heat of action, which men fond of exercise, and eager in it, are most unseasonably

gui lt y of. For there are but very few persons of such a constitu tion, either in body or

mind, as to be able, all on the sudden, to change from a bad state to a sound and good

one. Diogenes indeed, and Crates, and Zeno, and such eminent lights as these, might be

so happy; but for the generality of people, their alterations are gradual and slow;

t hey fall by l i t t le and l i t t le, and t hey recover t hemselves so too ; and thi s is such a

condi tion, as natur e hath appoin ted for u s, with regard to the soul, as well as the body.

For gent le meth ods are comm only mor e l ik ely t o hold, and a more safe way of

proceeding.These keep t he soul fr om spendin g it s st rengt h t oo fast , and put som e


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checks upon i t s forwardn ess; whi ch i s t he tr ue way, both of preservi ng, and by

degrees, t hough but slow ones, of confi rm in g and incr easing, th e vi gor of i t .This is

t he tr ue reason, why we are advised t o put a rest raint upon t he affecti ons of t he

soul, t o m ove leisurely and gradually , and wit h much coolness and caut ion. That is,

to slacken t he reins by lit tle and li tt le; and not t o let loose our desires and ou r aversions,

nor give them t heir fu ll r ange immediately. For t he man, who from a dissolut e and

headst rong course of l i fe, would bri ng him self t o t he contr ary habit s of sobri et y

and str i ct d iscipl in e, must n ot present ly l eap t o t he dist ant ext reme, f rom lux ury

and excess, to abstemiousness and fasting; but he must advance by steps, and be

sat isf ied at f ir st, wit h abat in g somewhat of hi s former extr avagance. For what the

aut hor of the Golden Verses hath observed, is very considerable upon these occasions.

The rash use force, and wi t h soft pleasures fi ght ;

The wise ret reat , and save th emselves by fl ight .

Thus i t i s in m atters of learn ing and k nowledge; young students mu st admi t t he ideas of

th ings warily, and not t ake every appearance of tr ut h for an u ncontestable axiom; t hat

so, if upon a second view, there be occasion to alter their judgments, it may be done with

greater readiness and ease, when their minds are not too strongly possessed with their

first notions.

Once more, Epictetus advises his scholars to move leisurely and gradually to objects of

both kinds; bu t now, if so mu ch caut ion and coldness be necessary, wh y does he allow

our aversions, any m ore than our desires? For he bids us tak e off our aversion s from

t hose prejudici al t hi ngs t hat are not in our power, and bend t hem again st t hose

t hat are; and y et at t he same ti me he prohibit s all manner of desir e, and, for some

t im e, wi l l not perm it us t o indulge t hat at al l .

One probable accoun t of th is may be taken from the natu re and condit ion of men, who

are beginning to reform. The f irst st ep t owards a good l i fe is t o th row off al l t he

venom and corr upt ion of a bad one; and t i l l t he breast has discharged i t self of t hi s,

no nouri shm ent can be had from any pri nciples of virt ue in fused int o it . What the

great Hippocrates has most excellently observed concerning our bodies, is much more

truly applicable to our souls: that so long as a m an cont i nues full of gross and

noxious hum ors, the nouri shm ent he receives, does not feed hi m, so mu ch as hi s

distemper. For the vicious pr inciples, which had t aken possession, corru pt all t he good

ones that are pu t to them. Sometimes they make us disrelish them, as unpleasant;


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someti m e dread and avoid t hem, as hurt ful and in juri ous t o us; someti m es

condemn t hem as evil , and r eject t hem as im possible to be compli ed wit h. And all

th is whi le, the disease gathers more strength , and grows upon us, by bringing us to a

contempt of better principles, after a pretence of having tried, and found them defective.

Thus at l ast i t becomes incu rable, and wi ll not so much as su ffer u s to admit of any

arguments or actions, that m ight advance us in vir tu e, but produces in us a loath ing of

all t hose remedies, that cont ribu te to our r ecovery. Just as in th e jaun dice, when the

vitiated palate thin ks honey bit ter, a man nauseates it p resent ly, and wil l never endure

to taste honey after, in order to the removing that prejudi ce. Thus the aversions are

allowed in young beginn ers, because the meth od of th eir cure requir es it ; and t he first

step t owards a r eformation, is, by growing int o a dislik e of vice, to pu t themselves in to a

condi tion of receiving virt uous pr inciples and good instr uct ions.

This discourse is also excellently well suited to such persons, in regard it shows them

the ri ght way to libert y, and secur it y, and an easy mind, that so their lives may be

pleasant and sweet to th em, wh ich i ndeed is t he very th ing all creatu res aim at. Now,

though an absolute freedom from passion, and a conversation in all points agreeable to

the rules of decency, and nature, be the proper excellency, which we ought to desire and

pursue; yet beginn ers must satisfy themselves with less; and think they do very well,

when t hey can abate of their passions, and reduce them wi th in some reasonable

bounds, t hough t hey cannot gain an absolu te mastery over them. They mu st expect t o

relapse sometimes, and are not so much t o be condemned for fal ling, as encouraged and

commended, when they rise again. Such as these therefore are not yet arrived to the

perfection of those thin gs which should be the object of their desires: and t his I t ake to

be the meanin g of th at expression, This i s not come to your tu rn yet; i.e. th e imperfect

state you are in, hath not qu alified you for such desires: for when we aim at someth ing

th at exceeds our capacity, and find we cannot r each i t, t hen t roubles and

disappoin tment s, and a sink ing of our spiri ts, and sometimes a despondi ng min d, follow

upon it. Men violent ly bent upon t hings above their strength, slight su ch as are

proporti onable to it , and t hink them vile and despicable; because they ju dge of them by

way of compar ison wit h greater. And yet it is by small begin ni ngs only, t hat we can

ever arr ive at great perfecti ons; and before we can cope wit h t hi ngs above us, we

m ust pract i ce upon less, and m ak e our selves mast ers of such as we are a m atch

for.


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Chapter. VIII.

Remember upon all occasions, to reflect w ith yourself, of w hat na ture and condit ion those

things are which minister delight, or are useful and beneficial to you, or which you have a

natural tenderness for: and that these reflections may answer their end, make them

familiar, by beginning at the slightest and most inconsiderable things, and so rising to the

higher and more valuable. For instance; if you are fond of an earthen cup, consider i t is but

earthenware, and you cannot be much troubled or surpr ised, when ever i t happens to be

broke. And if you be fond of a child or a w ife, consider, that they are human, that is of a

frail and mortal nature; and thus your surprise and concern w ill be the less, when death

takes either of them aw ay f rom you.

Comment.

After t he distinction between t hings within, and things out of ou r own power; and an

advert isement h ow we ought t o esteem each of them: that the former sort only must be

looked upon as our own, th e latter as foreign and in the disposal of others; he had told

us, how we ought t o be affected wit h r egard to those that fall wi th in our power: t o make

such of th em as are contrary to reason and natu re, the object of our aversion, and to

suspend all m anner of desire, for some convenient time; (which advice, in all pr obabili ty,

is grounded upon t he arguments already mentioned.) But since it is im possible to live

without having someth ing of int erest in and m uch dealing with those th ings that are not

at the disposal of ou r own wi ll; he now informs us how to converse wit h t hem , and

tells us, that, t hough t hey be not at our own pleasure, yet they may not be able to create

to us any manner of disquiet and confusion.

And here he takes notice of thr ee sorts of these external th ings; first , such as can only

pretend to please, wit hout profiti ng us at all; these are such, as min ister to ou r

entertainment and delight. The second, such as are beneficial and convenient for use.

And the thi rd, su ch as we have a parti cular affection for, by r eason of some natu ral

relation t hey bear to us, and wh ich we are tender of, with out any regard t o our own

benefit and convenience. And thi s is a very j ust and tr ue distin ction. For pleasur e, and

profit , and n at ural affect ion, are the t hree thi ngs t hat engage our heart s; and i t is

always upon one or oth er of t hese account s, t hat we are fond of t hi s mort al st at e,

and r econciled t o all t he hardshi ps and m iseri es at t endi ng it .

Now th e entert ainments and diversions that m en are delighted wit h, di ffer, according to

their several t empers and in clinat ions: some find t heir pleasur es in plays: others in


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sport s and exercises, in r aces, or ti lt ing or t he like. Others in dancing, or tr icks of

beauties of nature, as the colors of peacocks and other find birds, pleasant flowers, and

gardens, and meadows, and groves: or in the perfection of art, as pictures, and statues,

and buildings, or the exquisite workmanship of other professions. Some value those of

the eye less, and find greater satisfaction in the entertainment of the ear, as the

harm ony of vocal and i nstr umental m usic; and, whi ch is a pleasure more generous and

improving, in eloquence or history, and sometimes in fables and romances. For th at

these contribute much to our delight, is plain, from that fondness, which all of us

natu rall y have to stories, from our very chi ldhood.

The second sort, which tend to our use and benefit, are likewise various. Some

contribute to the improvement of the mind, as a skillful master, virtuous conversation,

instructive books, and the like: some are serviceable to the body, as meats and clothes,

and exercise: some regard only our fortune, as places of authority, lands and tenements,

money and goods, and the like.

Bu t t he thi rd sort we have a natu ral t enderness for, wi thout any prospect of advantage

from them; and t hese are recommended t o our affection, by some common tie of natu re

and affinity between us. In this relation stand our wives and children, our kindred, our

friends, and our coun trymen.

Now the advice given, wi th respect t o every one of these, is, that we would sit down, and

seriously consider, what the natur e and condi tion of each of them is; what hazards and

uncert aint ies they are liable to; that they are subject to corr uption and decay; that the

enjoyment of them is short , and not to be depended upon; and that none of them are

absolutely at our own pleasure and disposal. For such a reflection as thi s, which

suggests to us cont inuall y, what th eir natu re and cir cumstances are, is no other, than a

medit at in g upon th e loss of th em . And such a meditat ion would render t he thing easy

and famil iar t o us; and wh en any accident of th is kind befalls us, wou ld prevent all th at

surprise and confusion, and extravagant concern, which the unthinking part of the

world are oppressed wi th upon such occasions. And in deed the case here is the very

same with several other instances, wherein we find, th at t he troubles and pains of body

and mind both, t hough very grievous at first and in t hemselves, yet grow mu ch more

supportable by custom and use.


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To th is pu rpose, th e next words give us very good counsel; t o begin a t f i rs t wi t h l i t t le

matt ers; nay, not only wit h l i t t le, but wit h t he least and m ost inconsiderable; for

accordin g to the old Greek Proverb, The pot t er m ust t ry a cup, before he can m ak e a

jar .He th at un dert akes t he biggest fi rst , is present ly wor sted, proves un successful ,

spends his str ength t o no purpose, and gives out in ut t er despair . But he t hat set s

out leisurely , and begins wit h small and easy t ri als, grows st ron ger and bolder wi t h

hi s good success, and by gai ni ng groun d upon wh at was a match for h im before,

advances m ore sur ely, and conquers st il l great er and great er di ffi cult ies. Thus a

man used to four meals a day, if he attempts all on the sudden to fast a whole day

togeth er, wi ll find the change too violent for hi s body to bear, and never get th rough t he

tr ouble and pain of it. And th is force upon natu re is the reason, why such warm

undertakings are generally of dangerous consequence, only just for a spurt, and away.

But if such a one abates of his former indulgence by degrees; first takes himself down to

th ree meals, and, when th is proportion is grown habitual and easy, then allows himself

bu t t wo: thu s it wi ll be very feasible; and afterwards he may, withou t any great t rouble,

come to content himself wi th one; and such a change will be in fini tely more safe, and

more likely to cont inue.

Apply this now to the instance before us: we should consider those things that are dear

to us, upon t he account of their u sefuln ess and convenience; and from such among

them as are of least consequence and value, acquaint ourselves with the condition of all

the rest; as that their nature is corruptible, the enjoyment of them uncertain, and the

loss of them what we have reason to expect every moment. As in an earthen pot, which

can have noth ing but it s usefu lness, to in cline us to value it ; we are to remember, it is of

a brittle substance, and dashed to pieces with the least accident. And what can be a

poorer and m ore contempt ible instance than t hi s, to begin wit h? Yet m ean and t ri fling as

it is, a man that lays a good foundation here, and rises by degrees to matters of greater

concern , shall be able at last t o encoun ter h is affection for a chi ld; and n ot only in mere

speculati on, and empty formal words to say it, bu t to make his whole behavior speak,

and all the dispositions of his m ind to carry th e impression of th is wise and seasonable

reflection, th at what he thus dotes upon, is bu t a man; i f a man, consequently a bri tt le

and frail creatur e, and such as he is in a contin ual possibili ty of losing. And i f his mind

be once thoroughly possessed wit h th is consideration, and confir med with an habitu al

recollection of it ; whenever th at chil d is snatched away from him, he is prepared for t he


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stroke, and cannot be su rpr ised and confounded wi th passion, as if some str ange or new

thing had happened to him.

And here it is very well worth a remark , what abundance of wisdom and art if i ce there

is in t hi s m anagement of th in gs. For by it we get a mastery, over those, that are not by

natu re with in ou r power, and deal wit h t hem as th ough t hey were. The saving my chil d

from death , is a thing not in my power; bu t a due consideration of his being liable to it ,

the rendering th is consideration fami liar and easy to me, and living in expectati on of it,

as a th ing no less natu ral and lik ely th an his life, the not being distur bed if he does die,

and t he behavin g myself wi th such evenness of temper, as i f he were not dead: these are

in my power; and which is a great deal more, they do in effect bring the very accident of

his death, wh ich is of itself not so, within i t t oo. For a man th us composed may say, My

child is n ot dead to me; or, t o speak m ore tru ly and properly, Though he be dead, yet I

am sti ll the same man, as if he were still alive.

I only observe farther, that the instances produced here by Epictetus, are fetched from

the two latter sort s of th ings; such as are useful and beneficial to us, and such as

natu re, and affinit y gives us a more than ordin ary tenderness for: and t hese were

prudently chosen, with an intent, I presume to intimate, that those things, which are for

entert ainment and diversion, and can only pretend to please without profiti ng us, are so

very mean and despicable, as to deserve no consideration at al l, for persons wh o have

made any t olerable advances in the stu dy of wisdom and vir tu e.

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commentary on epictetus 3