commentary on epictetus 1

7/30/2019 commentary on epictetus 1

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Commentary on Epictetus' Enchiridion

(Chapters 1-3)

by Simpliciu s (c. early sixth centu ry)

Chapter. I.

All things whatsoever may be divide into two sorts; those that are, and those that are not,

w ithin our own power: of the former sort are our opinions and notions of things; our

affections, our desires, and our aversions. And in short, all our actions of every kind are in

our own power.

Comment.

He calls those things in our own power, which we ourselves are master of, and which

depend purely upon our own disposal and choice; as we commonly say, anyt hin g is a

, so as th at it should fall

within the compass of a second person, to grant or deny it, t o perm it or debar, or anyway

hinder hi m in t he enjoyment of it . Now such are the motions and operati ons of the soul ;

they are born and br ed wit hin u s, and owing solely to our own judgment, and ou r own

choice; for indeed, it is not possible for anythin g withou t u s to determine our choice. The

and the motions toward it , are ent irely our own, and wit hin us. Such, for instance, are

the parti cular opinions we entert ain, and t he judgments we make of th ings; as that

ri ches, or death, or the lik e, are thin gs in their own natu re, good, or evil, or indifferent.

And, though we are often i nduced to take up t his or t hat particular opinion u pon trust,

and from the credit we give, to what we hear other people say of it; yet is not their

authori ty, or t heir persuasion, of such absolu te efficacy, as that the opin ion should not

still be our own. For at this rate, we should make ourselves as senseless creatures as

Parrots, who when they call for a cup of sack, k now not what th ey say. If we be allowed

t rue, someti m es by t hi ngs wit hout us, and r ecomm ended and conveyed t o us by

t he inst ruct ions and argum ent s of ot hers; but n ot in fused so mechani cally , as th at

we should be purely passive in the case.

Thus again ; The object, wh ich moves our affection, i s without us, but the affection i tself

is excited, and ar ises, wit hin us. For th ere is a great di fference observable, between th e

internal motion of the mind, and the external motive or inducement to it. This motion is


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not li ke that of men thr ust forward by another, forcibly and against their wi lls; but such

a one, as when we move our own bodies, by our own strength, and of our own accord.

The case is t he same wit h ou r desires; by which th e soul does (as it were) put her self

forward, and go in pur suit of the thin g desired; and so lik ewise wit h our aversions t oo,

which are bu t a k ind of tu rn ing aside, or r un ning away, to avoid the object t hat pr ovokes

them.

Now it is sufficient ly man ifest, th at of all these, the first in order of natu re must be

opinion; by wh ich I u nderstand such a kn owledge or ju dgment of th ings, as is groun ded

upon reason, and worthy th e character of a man. When th is opinion r elates to any r eal

or seeming good or evil , wh ich we apprehend ourselves to be concerned in , th en it

presently excites either desire or aversion; and, pursuant to either of these, the proper

affections or motions of th e soul . For the good must needs be desired, before th e soul be

affected with it, or move towards it; and the evil must be disapproved, before she flee

from it. Though indeed the Stoics have advanced a contrary method, and represented

the affections, by whi ch the soul i s carr ied to or from i ts object, as if th ey were

antecedent to desire and aversion; thus considering these affections, as the beginnings

and imm ediate causes of th ose desires and aversions in the sou l.

But after all, the brutish inclinations, such particularly as anger and sensual appetite,

are so mu ch of a piece with the body, so closely and mani festly i nterwoven with the

blood and animal spirit s, that t hey seem to grow from t he part icular complexions and

consti tu tions of men. So th at these must of necessit y derive their motion from an

external cause in great measure, and cannot be perfectly at their own disposal, nor

under the absolute mastery of the persons thus desirin g, though t hey are begu n too, and

proceed originally from wit hin. Not only so, bu t t he rational soul i tself, when subdu ed by

th e body, and th e bru ti sh impulses of sense, does in a great degree degenerate into

machin e, is violent ly agit ated, drawn and managed at pleasure, and l oses mu ch of it s

nati ve liberty and power. Bu t when i t acts in agreement wi th natu re and r eason, it

main tains an absolute freedom, and moves onl y by an in ternal pr inciple of its own. In a

mind thus r egul arly di sposed, it is very easy to discern , how much we have in our own

power; though in the former instance of a disorderly mind, the case be somewhat

in tr icate and perplexed. Bu t h owever, i n order t o a more exact understandin g of the

whole matter, both what th is liberty and power i s, and what objects it extends to; as


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the abuse of this libert y; I will tr ace the th ing up t o its first cause, and examine the

whole matter part icularly.

The source and original of all th ings is good. For indeed, th at m ust needs be both the

cause, and beginnin g, and t he end and consumm ate perfection of all , in which all

desires center, and to which all th ings natu rall y tend. Now this good form s and produces

all t hin gs out of its own full ness, both the most excellent, t he middle sort , and th e last

and lowest rank of beings. The first and most excellent, bear the closest affinity to itself,

are of a piece with it , (as it were) and express images of it . Thu s one good being produces

many good beings; one simple and uncompounded being, independent and supreme,

produces many other simple beings lik e itself; one prin ciple produces many pri nciples:

and t his one, this simple being, th is pr inciple, and t his good, are but so many several

names for God, who is before all things, and the cause of all things.

Now whatever is fir st, mu st of necessit y be the pur est and most simple being. For all

compoun ded th ings and n umbers are after the simple and un it , in order of natur e, and

in feri or to t hem in dignit y. And all compounds, and t hin gs not good, do desire the good,

as something above, and better than themselves. And whatever is not self-existent must

have received its being from something else. So that the first principle and original cause

mu st h ave all absolute and in fini te power; the excellence of which consists, and it s

exuberance is seen, in t he producti on of all th ings from i tself, and in giving to th ose that

resemble its own perfections, t he precedence before oth ers t hat bear no su ch

resemblance to it . And hence it is, t hat one comm on pr inciple produces many pr inciples,

many simple beings, many goodnesses, immediately from itself, and its own fullness.

Thus all beings, which are distinguished from one another, by t heir own pecul iar

differences, and m ul tipl ied i nto several species, according to t he parti cular forms and

circumstances in which they differ, are yet each of them r educible to one pri nciple more

properl y their own. All things beauti ful and lovely (for instance) of whatever k ind th at

loveliness and beau ty be, or wh atever object t hey belong to, whether bodies or souls, are

yet deri ved from one comm on source of beauty and gracefu lness.

The case is th e same with all manner of congru it ies, and all tr ut hs, and all pr inciples; for

these, so far as they are principles and originals to other things, do exactly agree, and

are of the same nature with that primary goodness, and original truth, and first principle

of all; allowing only for some abatements, and t akin g that agreement in such

proportions, as the capacity of these derived and secondary causes will admit. For the


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same relation, wh ich t hat fi rst universal pr inciple bears to all beings in general, the

same does each of t hese subord inate pri nciples bear to t he several species, and

individu als, contained under it , and partak ing of the propert y peculi ar to it . For every

species, which is disti nguished from the rest by a pecu liar difference of its own, m ust

needs have a tendency to, and terminate in, its proper principle; from whence one and

the same form is reflected down upon all the part icul ar k inds and creatu res

compr ehended under it .

Thus a uni t i s the foun dation of all nu mbers, and a single cause is the original of all

propert ies, in th is vast variety of beings. So that all part ial and su bordinate causes do

really subsist, and are contained in the first and u niversal one; and th is, not locally or

nu merically, bu t essent ially and vir tu ally; as the parts in t he whole, as generals in a

singular , and as num bers in a un it . For t his indeed is it self all, above and before all; and

out of one principle many principles grow, and in one common good many goodnesses

subsist and dwell.

Nor i s thi s prin ciple a lim ited or part icular one (as for instance, a prin ciple of beauty, or

gracefulness, or goodness, or truth) as each of the rest are; but simply and universally a

principle or cause; a principle, not only of species and beings, but even of all other

pri nciples too. For t he propert y of a prin ciple cannot t ake its ri se from part icul ars, and

from many, bu t m ust center at last i n a uni t, and t hat one is the great original of all, t he

first beginning and cause of causes.

Now th e fir st and immediate product ions of this first original good, are of the same kind

and natu re with it self. They retain their nati ve goodness, and , lik e th at from whence they

spring, are fixed and unchangeable, rooted and confirmed in the same happiness; they

stand i n need of no addit ional good from abroad, bu t are themselves natu rally and

essentially good and happy. Now all other beings, whose descent from that one original

good is more remote, and who derive themselves from that first and these secondary

causes in conjunction, lose that perfection of being essentially good, and enjoy what they

have by participation only. Fixed indeed they are in Go

therefore he cont inually comm un icates it to them. But the last and lowest sort ; which

have no power of acting or moving themselves, (as bodies for example) as their exist ence

and motion, is someth ing from wit hout , and wh at themselves are purely passive in ; so

lik ewise is all their good owing to something without t hem too. And, t hat t heir m otion

and existence is from without, is plain, because they have no discerning or governing


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facul ty; t hey are subject t o perpetual change and d ivision, and consequent ly cannot be

present to themselves in every part, so as to be all in all, or produce themselves entire at

once; nor have they any power of moving themselves, as being in their own nature, void

of spirit and life. Yet still, there is a middle state between these extremes, a sort of

beings, inferior to that fixed immu table natur e which is always consistent wi th it self,

and yet superior to the lowest and mechanical sort . And t hese are moved, not in the

same manner wit h bodies, by a motion impr essed upon th em from something else, bu t

by one in ternal and pur ely theirs. And in th is capacity are souls, masters of their own

motion, and of that of the body to which they are uni ted. For wh ich r eason, we call all

bodies, set i nt o motion by a principle from wi th in , animate; and th ose that have none,

bu t wh at proceeds from something with out, inanimate bodies.

So then the soul gives motion, both to itself, and to the Body. For if it received its own

motion from something without, and afterwards put the body into motion, this motion of

the body could n ot, with any propriety of speech, be imput ed to the soul , bu t woul d be

wholly owing to that, whi ch fir st m oved t he sou l. Now th is free being is beneath the fixed

and unchangeable Goodness, and enjoys its good by participation only, and so is carried

towards it ; yet t his is done by no foreign force, bu t by it s own spont aneous act, i ts own

inclinat ions and desires. For i nclin ations, and desires, and affections and choice, are

motions proper t o souls, and ent irely th eir own.

Now of th ese, th e first and best, being the immediate production of th ings essent ially

and in their own natu re good, (though wi th th is abatement , that they are not so

themselves, but only are desirous of good) do bear so near a relation to them, that they

desire it with a n atu ral and unchangeable affection; their choice is ever uni form and

consistent; determined to the good part, and never perverted to the worse. And if by

choice we mean the preferri ng of one th ing before anoth er; th ey can scarce by allowed to

have any, u nless you wil l call it so, because th ey ever take the chiefest and most perfect

good. But the souls of men are so contrived, as to link together, into one person, a

heavenly and an earth ly n atur e; and consequent ly, must be capable of inclining to both

sides, of soaring upwards, or of sink ing downwards. When they make the former t heir

constant care; their desires and their determinati ons are un iform, and free, and above

cont radicti on; but when th ey lose th is power, all is in vert ed and ou t of cour se, because

they employ themselves wholly upon pu rsu ing mean ends, and only affect low actions:

notwithstanding nature hath qualified them for the animating and moving of bodies


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inanimate and pur ely passive; and for govern ing t hose th in gs, which are incapable of

procur ing or partakin g of any good by their own act; and hath given them a power, n ot

only of acting as they please themselves, but of put ting other thin gs in to action at

pleasure too, which otherwise are not capable of any such thing.

Now when t he soul hath conversed too familiarly wi th , and addicted herself too mu ch to

temporal and corr uptib le th ings, such as have bu t a peri shing and tr ansitory good in

them; h er choice is no longer above cont radicti on, but attended wit h many st ruggles and

sometimes a real good, and sometimes a treacherous and deceitful one, which, upon the

accoun t of some pleasure att ending it , prevails upon us. And because thi s is m ost

cert ain, t hat true good is always att ended with tr ue pleasure; hence it is, th at, wherever

the soul discovers the least shadow of this, she catches at it greedily, without staying to

consider of what kind the pleasure is; whether it be real and agreeable to that good

which is truly so; or whether it be false, and only carries a counterfeit face of good; never

recollecting that it is necessarily attended with many troubles and great uneasinesses,

and would not be pleasure without t hese to in tr oduce and recommend i t t o us. For h e

th at takes pleasure in eating, woul d have none if he had not first been hu ngry; nor

would drinking give a man any, but for the thirst, that afflicted him before. Thus

uneasiness and pain are the constant attendants of pleasure, and ever mingled wi th it :

So th at if you suppose any pleasure in dri nk ing, you shall find, th at it comes from some

remains of thir st; for the pleasure last no longer, t han wh ile the pain cont inu es with it .

So long as we are hungry, or d ry, or cold, or th e lik e, the meat, and dr ink, and fire, that

allay these uneasinesses, are agreeable to us; bu t when once the sense of those pains

ceases, we qu ick ly grow weary, and have too mu ch of them. And what before gave

satisfaction and relief, soon becomes our loathing and aversion, and is itself a pain to

us. Thu s also the men, wh o suffer themselves to be carr ied away in to in ordinate and

extravagant enjoyments, and make pleasure the only end and business of their lives,

generally undergo a great deal of trouble and uneasiness along with it.

Now the choice of this pleasant treacherous good is the cause of all our faults; as on the

cont rary, the choice of tr ue substant ial good is the foun dation of all our virt ue. And

indeed all the good and evil of our whole lives, the happiness and misery of them,

depend u pon th is freedom of will , and power of choice in us. For when the will i s

disengaged, when it proceeds from a free principle, and its determinations are properly


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the acts of that rati onal sou l, of which our very essence and natu re consists; th en i t i s

directed t o objects t ru ly eligible and good. And for th is reason, vir tu e, which is it s proper

happiness and perfection is called in Greek , aret. A name which hath great affinit y to a

word t hat signi fies eligible, not only because virt ue is pr operly the object, bu t also,

because it i s the effect of our own choice. But when th e wil l acts in compl iance wit h t he

bru ti sh appeti tes and Inclinations, and proposes their enjoyments to itself as its own

happiness; th en it makes an i ll choice, and fixes upon coun terfeit good instead of tr ue:

so that all th is freedom and choice is in our own disposal. For the opin ions and

affections of the soul, i ts In clinations and aversions, are but so many steps towards

choice; and all term inate in th at at last: and t hese are properly the motions of the min d,

arising from wi thin , and not from any violent impu lses from with out us. So that we

our selves are masters of all t hese th ings.

This is t he very reason, wh y th e laws of God and man, and the judgment of all wise men,

make our own freedom and choice the standard, to measure our actions by. They look

upon the in tention, as a thin g absolu tely in our own power; and t hey pronounce of our

vices and our vi rt ues, according to thi s, and n ot accordi ng to the qualit y of our actions

themselves. For these are not absolutely ours; but are specified and distinguished,

become form ally good or evil, by our own wil l, and our own choice. The action of k ill ing is

always the same, considered stri ctly in it self; bu t wh en t his action is in volunt ary, it i s

excused and pardoned, because in such cases it is not properly ours, nor in our own

power: nay, when done in a just cause, or in a legal way, it is not only excused, but

applauded and highly commendable. So that the formal good, or evil, of our actions does

not depend upon th e actions themselves, but upon the int ent ion, t he choice, the freedom

and power wh ich we have in them, and which give them their m oral qualit ies

accordingly.

By all th is it appears, th at Epictetus took t he right method, when he began his

instructions with this consideration of things within our own power; and advised us to

make it the general rule of our conduct; since all the excellency, and all the dishonesty of

our actions, all the happiness and all t he misery of our lives, depends u pon it . Bu t, when

he says in general terms, that all th ings may be distinguished in to two sort s, some that

are, and some that are not in our own power; we must not so un derstand him, as if all

th ings whatsoever were meant by it , but only such as are with in us, or anyway concern

us. For at t hat r ate, there woul d be no proportion at all betwixt the two opposite part s,


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which ought to be observed, and is necessary to make a just division. And t his

proporti on, I say, would be qui te lost, if all th ings whatsoever, both th ose that are

contained in the world, and t hose that are above, and ou t of the world, were set in

opposition t o the few in compari son, t hat are wit hin our own power.

Bu t now, in regard some people quarr el wi th th is distin ction, even wh en li mi ted in th e

most cautious manner that can be, and wil l allow us to have noth ing at all in our power:

And among these, some assert, that all our actions, appetites, and passions, proceed

from necessity, and not from choice; and others make us li ke stones pu t i nt o motion,

th at act mechanically, by chance, and wit hout any pur pose or design at all; th ough what

hath been said already, upon our natu ral power, and t he place which our choice and

free-wil l hath, and the necessit y th at so it mu st be, might suffice; yet perhaps it may not

be amiss, to consider the objections of those men, who would rob us of th is li bert y and

power, and to refute them particularly.

Now, if by th is mechanical and forced sort of acti on, with out pu rpose, and by pu re

chance, they in tend to say, that we propose to ourselves no end at all in what we do, it is

by no means true; or if it would hold in some cases, yet it is evident, there are very many

instances, in wh ich i t wi ll not. For all art s and sciences, nay, all natu res and beings,

have constant ly some parti cular aim and end fi xed to th em; t o which t hey direct their

endeavors perpetually, and make every action in some degree subservient. And it may be

said i n general, That th ere is no one act, no one motion, of any l iving creatu re in the

whole world, but is performed out of a prospect of some real, or at least some seeming

good: even where the object i s evil, t hi s observat ion h olds; since th e avoiding th at evil is

for the attaining some good, and for the advantage we may find in escaping from it.

Bu t i f thi s acting by chance, and with out any pu rpose, be so understood, that what we

desire, may prove impossible to be compassed, or in capable of answerin g our end, or

hu rt ful when we have attain ed it , (as we say sometim es, that a man t ook a medicine

without any thought, or to no purpose, which did him no good, or perhaps, did him

harm :) neither does th is sense destroy our free-wil l. For we main tain , th at t hose desires

and aversions are in our power, wh ich concern, not only th ings that may be att ained,

and tu rn to our benefit when they are so; but th ose too, which cannot, and which are

prejudi cial to us when we have them. And for t hi s reason we affirm , th at our err ors and

our vices, are as truly the effects of this liberty and choice, as our greatest virtues

themselves are.


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Those who pretend, that our opinions and desires, and generally speaking, all our

choices and intentions, are necessary, and not at our own disposal, as proceeding from

motives without u s, and n ot beginnin g of our own accord wi th in us, argue for t heir

opin ion several ways.

Some of them make the wants of hu man natu re the groun d of thi s necessit y. For we all

know, that a man in extremity of hunger, or thirst, or cold, desire meat, and drink, and

warmth , whether he will or n o; and a person u pon a sick bed, cannot help desirin g

health and ease.

Some lay all u pon the natu re of the th ing it self, wh ich is t he object of our opinion, or

desire, or aversion; and contend, t hat th is excites our passions, and affects our minds,

by its own power and evidence, whether we are consenting to it, or not. Who is there, for

instance, that hath att ained to the least k nowledge in arit hmetic, and does not readily

allow, and firmly believe, th at twice two make four ? And wh ich way shall we call such an

opinion as thi s, the effect of freedom and choice, and n ot rather of absolu te constr aint ,

because arising from the evidence of the thing assented to, and the impossibility of its

being otherwise? So again , when a m an hath ent ertained a notion of any goodness or

excellence, when he apprehends a thing to be lovely, or profitable, or the direct contrary;

does he not forthwi th natu rally desire the one sort , and decline the other? For t he best

philosophers are agreed, that the object of our desire, and the final cause, are the

motives, which set all the rest on work : and if t hi s be tr ue, how shall we challenge that

as our own act and deed, which is so absolutely the effect of constraint and necessity,

imposed by the nature and quality of things without us, which stir our affections

accordingly, wit hout any disposal or consent of our s?

Others rather t hin k , that th e disposit ion of the person designing is the cause of all th is

necessit y; th is, say they, must n eeds be wrought upon, according as it stands in clined;

Nor is it in ones own choice, whether he will desire those thin gs or not, wh ich h is own

natu re, and temper, and custom, strongly determine him to. Thus the temperate person

finds in himself a habit ual desire of such actions, and such conversation, as are

agreeable to the vir tu e of temperance; and th e in temperate is no less fond of all

occasions to exercise hi s ext ravagance. Thu s th e designs of them both are fixed, and it is

not in their power to alter them. For some we see plainly, who are angry at themselves,

condemn their own desires, and wish with all their souls that they could restrain and

subdu e them, yet fin d their habit s and customs so violent and prevail ing, that they are


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hu rr ied on, and t ru st forward, l ike so many engines, and feel and l ament the force which

they cannot resist, when objects which are agreeable to their inclinations, (such as by

custom are become familiar and natural to them) offer themselves. By the same reason,

a ski llful and judicious man will give a right j udgment of th ings, and entertain t ru e

opinions of them; and the ignorant and unlearn ed, will have false and mistaken noti ons.

For i t cannot agree with t he character of a wise man, t o take up wit h an err or; nor wi th

that of an ignorant one, to find out the trut h: Bu t i t stands to great reason, t hat t he

ignorant one should assent to a falsehood, and t he skill ful and learned should reject it .

And yet, if t hese thin gs were ent irely at one own disposal, t his would not be. For the

ignorant man would n ever prefer falsehood before trut h, i f he cou ld help i t; and the wise

man, i f we should allow him to assent to tr ut h, merely by vir tu e of hi s own free-will,

might also be allowed to take up false opinions, if you do but suppose his will to incline

him that way too. But t his, they tell you, cannot be: for it is with the understanding, and

the objects about which it is employed, as we find it with the senses of the body, and

sensible objects; I mean, it is impossible to have things apprehended otherwise than they

represent th emselves, unless we suppose some weakness or defect i n th e organs wh ich

should apprehend and represent them t o us.

These are the cavils comm only m ade use of against free-wi ll ; th ough indeed a great

many men in sist upon one more; and fancy, that there is a fatali ty in the motion and

posit ion of the heavens, which in fluencing, not only all other th ings, but even our very

desire and in clinati ons too, determines us in the opinions we shall espouse, and t he

choices we shall make. And in confir mati on of this argument, t hey produce the

predictions of astr ologers, who, upon calculating nativit ies, and finding what planet each

person is born un der, take upon them t o pronounce very perempt orily, that such a one

shall be a voluptuous person; a second, covetous; a third, a lover of learning and

wisdom; and th us declare beforehand the inclinat ions and desires, which in the whole

course of their lives, shall afterwards be discovered by their behavior and conversation.

Now these men could never say true, nor describe such tempers and practices so exactly

as they do, if there were not some constellation, some fatal overruling influence, which

change or conquer t hem. And in any such fatali ty t here be; how absur d is it to pretend

to a power of regulatin g and determinin g our own desires, and of fixing them upon what

objects we please, when we are absolutely and irrevocably staked down to this or that


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parti cular object beforehand, and must desire and pu rsue it , whether we will or no?

This, I thi nk , is the sum of all th e objections, commonly ur ged against t hat l iberty we

profess to assert, and the power of disposing our desire and our aversions, the

resolu ti ons we take, and th e actions we do, as we see fit ou rselves.

Now, in answer t o the first of these, which made out wants the foun dation of that

pretended necessit y and constr aint ; we may rely, that , if th is were tru e, then wan t woul d

always create desire. But th is it does not do. For th ere are many th ings, and part icularly,

inanimate creatu res, th at are oftentim es in great want of some quali ty or oth er; h eat, or

cold, or drought , or moistur e, and yet they never desire what t hey stand so mu ch in

need of. The reason is plain , because th eir natu re is not capable of desire: For, in order

to desire, it is necessary, both to have a sense of the th ing desired, an to be moved by

th at sense: from wh ence it is plain , th at want does not always infu se, or in fer desire.

Bu t t he creatu res, which are endu ed wit h a facult y of desirin g, when th ey feel

themselves in want, do then exert desire, in order to the relief of the wants they feel.

Thus (to illu strate the th ing by a fami liar Instance) it ching disposes us to scratch; and

upon a sense of th e un easiness it give us, th e hands apply th emselves to th e relief we

want; bu t yet t his it ching does not give us the hands we scratch with: nor is it t ru e, that

the necessities of human life have invented the arts and trades made use of for the

support of it. For i t i s the min d of man, which in vented th em, saw the need th ere was of

them, and took occasion from thence to seek out this relief. For all desire is a motion of

the soul desiring, born and begun wit hin, and exert ed by th e sou l, when called out by

any desirable object; bu t i t is by no means infu sed int o the soul from without . Now the

ir rati onal life of bru te beasts, being wholly corporeal, and having, in tr u th , lit tle or

noth ing, but what is matt er and body belonging to it, is tr oubled with no difference or

distr action of desires, hath no wants, except th ose relatin g to the body, to supply; and

consequent ly, bu t one sort of desires to exert . And this constant un iformity in their case,

makes us th ink them the effect, not of liberty, bu t n ecessit y.

Bu t n ow, the rational sou l of man, being placed, as I said before, in a m iddle station,

may be considered in a th reefold capacit y and disposition; one, that inclines it t o the

worst part , th at is, the bodily and brut ish; a second, t hat r egards its own self; and a

th ird, that better and m ore excellent part above it : so that here may be a th reefold

conversation, a threefold want, and a threefold desire. When it gives itself tamely up to

the body, and consu lts the bru tish appeti tes and wants of that part onl y; then, of


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necessit y, it compl ies and concurs wi th all th e bodily desires. And th is is th at sort of

desire, which captivates the wil l, and h ath brought the freedom of it t o be a matter of so

mu ch cont roversy. But when it pur sues the inclin ations, and l ives agreeably to the

nature, either of its own self, or the excellent beings above it; then it exerts its faculties

freely, and desires the good pecul iar to t hese conditi ons, without difficul ty or opposition.

Now the power and liberty of the soul consists in th is; that, whereas natu re hath made

her capable of desires of several quali ti es, some of a bett er and m ore excellent ki nd, and

others of a worse and m ore vile; she can so far d ispose of herself, as to fix u pon eith er

the one or the other of these sorts: wh ich yet is done with th is difference, that, by

pursuing the worse her faculties are enfeebled and debased, and by following the better

they are exalted and confirmed; for the choice of these is indeed truly and properly

choice. And hence we see it often happens, that when the body finds itself low and

empt y, and r equir es meat, or some other sustenance, th e mind steps in and

counterm ands th is desire, wit h another overr ul ing one of fasting or abstemiousness; and

this too taken up possibly upon some religious account, or in obedience to some law, or

perhaps, merely in point of pru dence, as th inking it better upon its own accoun t, or

more condu cing to the health of the body. Now I t hink nobody can say, bu t t he mind, in

such a case, might, if it had so pleased, have complied with those first desires, as indeed

we find the generali ty of people do upon th ese occasions; bu t you see, it exerted anoth er

opposite desire, and prosecut ed t hat , as the greater good, and so more eligible of the two.

So th at Epictetus, look ing upon t he soul as endu ed with reason, might u pon th is

accoun t very just ly say, that she had it in her power to qualify her desires, and t o place

them upon such or such objects, as she saw cause.

The next objection, which tells us, the object of desire necessarily excites the soul to a

desire of it , mu st be acknowledged t o have a great deal of tru th in it ; bu t yet n ot so

much, as the persons who urge it imagine. For, the object does not move the soul to

desire forcibly and mechanically, bu t by proposing itself, as someth ing fit to be

embr aced; and th us calling forth those powers of the soul in to action, wh ich n atur e hath

qualified to meet, and to receive it: just as the sensible object does not infuse the faculty

of sensation into the person who receives its impressions, nor draws him by violence to

it self; bu t only p resents itself to the eye, in such pr oport ions as are proper for u ni ting

with t hat organ of sense, which was ordained by natu re, and fit ted for that union. And

so the object of desire presents its convenience and fitness to the soul, and this invites


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such m otions, as natu re hath provided proper for t hi s pur pose. Thus it mu st needs be;

because we see, that, when desirable objects offer themselves, some people are, and

others are not, affected with them; whereas, if the object were endued with such efficacy

and power, as perfectly to constr ain t he person desiring; and if t he motion of the mind

were necessaril y im pressed by i t ; it mu st needs follow, that upon such occasions

everyone must be affected with it , th ough perhaps not everyone in th e same degree. And,

in truth, such an operation upon the mind would not be desire, but a violent impulse, or

forcible attraction; such as we see, when one body is thrust forward, or dragged along by

one another. For desire is a kind of expansion in the mind , as moving forwards towards

the th ing desired, withou t any local motion i n t he person desiri ng; such as we may

body is in no motion. So that desire is a motion, begun originally, and proceeding from

within; as are also our opinions, and th e other th ings ment ioned here by Epictetus.

This motion, indeed, is sometimes what it ought to be, and is du ly proport ioned to th e

natu re of the th ing, whi ch we desire or conceive of: and sometimes it i s mistaken and

very different from it , when we are inclined t o something, which to us appears very

desirable, but is really wh at should rather pr ovoke our aversion. For it shows us a gaudy

outside to invite our desire, and h ath a great deal of hidden evil wit hin, wh ich all the

while lies concealed, under some advantage, which the idea of this object flatters us

with. Thu s the thief is carr ied away wit h an idea of gain and ri ches, as a desirable thi ng;

and this keeps him from considering, or h aving any dread at all of that horr ible evil,

which lies sheltered under this gain, defiles his soul, and taints it with unjustice, and

then, as for any apprehensions of discovery, and impr isonment , and punishment, wh ich

are th e onl y calami ties so wicked a wretch fears; t he excessive eagern ess of his desires

u tt erly overlooks and sti fles all these; for h e present ly represents to h imself, wh at a

world of men do such things, and yet are never found out. Now, thus much is plain ly in

our power, to examine this object of our desire more nicely; and to inform ourselves well,

whether it be a real good and worth our pu rsu ing; or wh ether i t only cheats us with a

fair outside and counterfeit appearance of good; as, particularly, in the instance of gain

just now ment ioned. Nay, we m ay go someth ing far ther yet; for , we may cor rect and

regulate our desires; may bri ng them to fix upon such objects only, as are tru ly

desirable, and may teach them not to be imposed upon with false appearances.


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We are told again, t hat our desires and our opinions are carr ied to their proper object

with as invincible a necessity, as a stone or clod of earth is carried downwards; and

consequent ly, that natu re hath l eft us nothin g in our own power: nor have we any more

reason t o conclude, th at we are free to th ink , or to desire, after th is or that mann er,

when we see our assent and appetite always moved by the credibility or the

desir ableness of th eir objects, t han we have, to suppose th at a stone can ascend, when

we never see it do so.

Now to this it may be replied, that there is a twofold necessity, the one absolutely

destru ctive of free-wil l, the other very consistent with i t. That ki nd of necessit y, which

proceeds from any thin gs without us, does indeed take away all liberty and choice; for no

man can be said to act freely, when he is compelled by any other external cause, to do a

th ing, or to leave it un done. But then t here is another sort of necessit y from wi th in

ourselves, which k eeps everything wit hin it s due boun ds, and obliges each facul ty and

part to act agreeably to its own natu re and ori ginal consti tu tion. And t his i s so far from

destroying free-will, that i t r ather preserves and su pports it . For by t his means it comes

to pass, th at a free-agent can be wrought upon by no other ways, but such as are

consistent wit h t he natur e of a free-agent , which i s from a principle of motion with in

itself. And this necessity is by no means a mechanical necessity, because it is not

imposed by anythin g from wi thout us; bu t i s what th e natu re of such an agent admits

and requires; what is necessary for its preservation, and for exerting the operations,

proper to a creatu re endu ed wit h such a facult y as self-m otion.

Besides, if the soul can br ing itself t o such habit s and dispositions as are vir tu ous or

vicious; can grow better by wisdom and sobriety, and worse by perverseness and a

dissolute behavior; and can confirm itself in each of these courses, by the frequent

repeti tion of acts suit able to them; t hen the soul is the tr ue cause of all th is. Though, in

tr u th , it m ust not be admi tt ed for a general ru le neither, That th e liberty and power of

the will is to be judged of, by men being able to do things, contrary to one another. For

the soul s imm ediately uni ted to the ori ginal good, prefer t hat constant ly; and yet t he

freedom of their choice is still the same; for that preference is no more constrained and

necessary, t han if t hey took evil i nstead of it . Bu t it is t heir excellence and perfection,

that they continue steadfast in their own good, and never suffer themselves to be drawn

off to the cont rary. But as for our sou ls, which are more remotely descended from that

great original, their desires are according to their tempers and dispositions; those of


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th em th at are well disposed, have good desires, and t hose th at are il l, h ave evil ones: But

sti ll th ese sou ls of ours are capable of great alt erat ions; They frequently recover

themselves from vice to virtue, by reformation and better care; They decline too, and sink

down from virtue to vice, by supineness and a foolish neglect; and both these changes

are wrought i n t hem by their own volu ntary choice, and not by any force or necessit y

th at compels them to it. So that t here can be no mann er of pretence for charging any

part of our wickedness upon God. He created the soul after such a manner indeed, as to

leave it capable of being corrupted; because its essence is not of the fir st and best sort of

natu res, but hath a mixtu re of the middle and t he lowest; and th is mixtur e was fit, th at

so all might remain in its perfection; and the first and best continue still such, without

degenerating into barrenness, and imperfection, and matter. God therefore, who is

in fini tely good h imself, made the soul i n a capacit y of being pervert ed; and it i s an

argument of his mercy, and the exceeding riches of his goodness, that he did so: for he

hath set it above the reach of all external violence and necessity, and made it impossible

for it to be corrupted without its own consent.

There is one argument more still behind; wh ich pretends, that a fatal revolu tion of th e

heavens h ath so str ong and absolute a power upon us, as not only t o influ ence our

acti ons, but even t o determine our choice, and all our inclinat ions, and leave us n o

liberty at all to dispose of our selves, but only th e empty name of such a liberty. Now to

these we may answer, t hat i f the rati onal soul be eternal, and imm ortal, (which I shall

not go about to prove, that being foreign to th is subject, bu t shall desire at present to

take for grant ed, th ough it mu st be confessed, not in all poin ts agreeable to th e doctri ne

of the Stoics in this part icul ar, but ) if th e soul , I say, be eternal and imm ortal, it cannot

be allowed to receive its being from, or to have its dependence upon, matter and motion.

Its in stru ment in deed, that is, the animal taken in the gross, by which I mean, the body

animated by t he soul , may owe it s natu re and it s changes to such causes: for material

causes produce material effects; and th ese may di ffer , accord ing as those causes are

differently disposed; wit h r egard t o things here below. And the instrum ent is formed so,

as to be proper and serviceable to the soul, whose business it is to make use of it now;

as the difference of tools teaches us to distinguish the several professions that use them,

capacity of the art ificers t hemselves; to ju dge of th eir designs and in tentions, and th e


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perfection of the work itself; for those who are masters of their trade, have better tools,

and use them wi th greater dexterit y, than others: In li ke manner, th ey who have attained

to the kn owledge of astrology, find ou t t he natu re and temper of the instru ment (the

body) from the different consti tu tion of material causes, and from hence make their

conjectures of the disposition of the soul; and this is the reason, why they often guess

aright . For indeed, th e generalit y of souls, when fallin g under il l management, and the

conversation of naughty men, (a sort of degradation, i nfli cted u pon th em by way of

punishment, for the loss of their primitive purity) addict themselves too much to the

body, and are govern ed and subdu ed by i t; so as to use it no longer as their inst ru ment

of action, bu t to look upon it as a part and piece of their own essence, and conform their

desires to its brut ish appeti tes and inclinat ions.

Besides, this position, and fatal revolution of the heavens, carries some sort of argument

to th e production of the souls uni ted to bodies under it , yet not so, as to impose any

absolute necessit y upon their appeti tes and in clinati ons, but only to infer a resemblance

of their temper. For, as in cities, there are some particular solemn seasons and places,

which give us good grounds to dist ingui sh t he persons assembled in them: as the days

and places of publ ic worship commonly call t hose th at are wise, and r eligious, and well-

disposed, together; and t hose th at are set apart for pomp and public sports, gather t he

rabble, and the idle, and the dissolute; so that the observing these solemnities gives us a

clear knowledge of the people that attend upon them: by the same reason, the particular

seasons and places, (the houses and conjunct ions of the planets) may be able to give us

some light, i nt o the temper of the soul s un ited to bodies under them, as carryin g some

affinity to the conjunctions, under which men are born. For, when God in his justice

hath ordained such a part icul ar posit ion, and all the fatali ties consequent to it; t hen

those souls, which have deserved this vengeance, are brought under that position. For

lik eness, and affini ty of tempers, hath a strange power of brin ging all th at agree in it

togeth er. Thi s fatal r evolu tion th en, does by no means constrain or bin d u p th e soul, nor

take away its native freedom; but the soul only bears some resemblance to the temper of

this revolution; and is framed agreeably to such a body, as itself hath deserved to be

given it for it s use. And This gives men an opport un it y of learning its par ti cular desires

and Inclinations, by considering the constellati ons that people are born un der.

Again, the sou ls choose their parti cular ways of livin g, according to their former dignit y

and disposition; but still, the behaving themselves well or ill in each of these ways, is left


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in their own power. Upon this account, we see many, who have chosen a way of trade,

and bu siness, and great temptati on, yet conti nu e very h onest and good men in it ; and

many who pr ofess philosophy, and the improvement of wisdom and vir tu e, are yet of

very loose conversation, notwithstanding all the advantages of such an employment. For

the different meth ods of life, as that of hu sbandr y, or m erchandi se, or mu sic, or t he like,

ar

world i s assigned them, su itable to their dignit y and desert s: But the management of

themselves, in any of these callings, is the choice and work of the soul afterwards; and

we do not so much blame or commend men for their callings themselves, as for their

different behavior in t hem.

Farther yet: this fatal position or revolution does never (as some men too boldly affirm it

does) cause anything of wickedness in us, so as to make it necessary, that men born

under it should be knaves and cheats, adulterous, or addicted to beastly and unn atur al

lu sts. For, th ough the casters of nativit ies sometimes say t ru e, when t hey foretell these

things; yet this only happens, according as we receive particular qualities or

impressions; wh ich i s done, sometimes in a moderate, and sometimes in an immoderate

degree. And it is not t he influ ence of the stars, bu t t he corru ption of the mind, t hat

makes men k navish, or lascivious, or un natu ral and brut ish. Those that receive these

in fluences moderately, and do not assist them by th eir own depravit y, are cauti ous and

wary, corr ect the heat of you th , and use it virt uously; but those that receive them

immoderately, that is, give way to them, and promote them, debase and prosti tu te

themselves to all manner of wickedness. And what reflection u pon natu re can th is be?

For, even t hat, wh ich i s most beneficial t o us, may tu rn to our prejud ice by a perverse

use of it. The sun gives us light ; it both makes th ings visible, and enables us to see

them; And yet, i f a man wi ll be so foolish, as to take too much of it, to gaze upon his rays

when th ey shine in their ful l str ength, he may lose his eyesight by his folly. Bu t t hen,

th at folly, and not the bri ghtness of the sun, i s to be blamed; if that, wh ich is the au thor

of light to all the world, be the occasion of blindness and darkn ess to him . Now, when

the astrologers have (as they think) formed to themselves certain marks and rules,

whereby to know, who will receive these impressions in a due measure, and who in a

vicious excess; then they pronounce some men wise, and others subtle and knavish

accordingly. Those, after all, I very much doubt, whether the erecting of any schemes

can fu rn ish t hem with such marks of distinction, or no: some thin gs indeed are so


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manifest, that all the world must allow them; as, that when the sun is in Cancer, our

bodies feel excessive heat; bu t some again are exceedingly dark and doubt fu l, and such

as none, but those who have made themselves masters of astrology, can make anything

of.

Now, th at th ose things which act constant ly according to the design and dir ections of

natu re, preserve the original constitu tion given t hem at fir st by th eir great creator, and

are endu ed wi th the greatest power and str ength, th at such t hin gs, I say, always act

upon a good design, and properl y speaki ng, are never th e cause of any evil, seems t o me

very plain. For all evil is occasioned, not by the excess, but by the want of power; and if

it were not so, power ought not to be reckoned among those things that are good. And

yet i t i s as plain that even good things in excess oftent imes prove hu rt ful to us; but then,

that hurt is not owing to the things, but to ourselves. And thus much may suffice, in

answer to them who deny the freedom of the will, u pon the pretence of any fatalit y from

the motion or position of the heavens.

Bu t indeed, to all who deny t his liberty, u pon any argument wh atsoever, i t m ay be

replied in general, That those who go about to destroy it, do by no means consider or

understand the nature of the soul, but overthrow its very original constitution, without

seeming to be sensible of it. For t hey take away all pri nciple of int ernal and self-motion,

in which the essence of the soul chiefly consists. For it must be either moved of its own

accord, and t hen it is excited by a cause within i tself t o its appeti tes and affections, and

not thrust forward and dragged along, as bodies are; or else it is moved by an external

force, and then it is pur ely mechanical.

Again, They who wil l not allow us to have our actions at our own disposal, do not attend

to, nor are able to account for, the vital energy of the soul, and its assenting and

dissenting, accepting or rejecting power. Now this is what experience and common sense

teaches every man; that he hath a power of consenting and refusing, embracing and

declining, agreeing to or denyin g; and it is to no purpose to argue against that, wh ich we

feel and find every m oment . Bu t n ow all th ese are internal motions, begun in the soul

itself; and not violent impulses and attractions from things without us, such as

inanimate creatures must be moved by. For this is the difference between animate and

inanimate bodies, that t he one sort are moved by an in ternal pr inciple, and t he other are

not. Now, according to this distinction, t hat whi ch put s the inanimate into motion, mu st

have a pri nciple of motion of it s own, and cannot it self be moved mechanically. For i f


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th is also deri ved i ts motion from someth ing else, the, (as was u rged before) th e body is

not moved by th is, but by that other cause, from whence the motion is at first i mpar ted

to th is; and so the body, being moved no longer from wi th in , but by some forcible

Impr ession from wit hout , as all other inanimate creatu res are, mu st it self be concluded

Inanimate.

Once more, by denying that we have power over our actions, and a liberty of willing or

not wil ling, of considering, comparing, choosing, desiri ng, declining, and t he lik e, All

moral disti nctions are lost and gone, and vir tu e and vice are ut terly confoun ded. There is

no longer any just ground left for praise or dispraise, applause or reproach, rewards or

punishments. The laws of God and man instit ut ed for t hose pur poses, and enforced by

these sanctions, are evacuated; and th e very foundations of them all torn up, and qu ite

overtu rned. And t hen, do but consider, how di smal t he consequences mu st be. For when

once we are come to th is pass, all order and society m ust needs be lost; and noth ing left

us, but a life of rapine and violence, of misery and confusion; a life, not of civilized men,

bu t of ravenous and wild beasts.

Bu t I expect, that the adversaries of th is opinion will appeal back again t o our own

experience, and urge afresh, what? Do we not often find ourselves forced by the tyranny

of ill m en, and the overbearing torm ent of our own passions, and th e str ong bent of

natu ral sympathies and ant ipath ies? Do not t hese compel us t o do and suffer many

th ings against our will s; and su ch as no man in his senses woul d choose, if i t were in his

power t o avoid? To this my answer i s still the same, that notwi th standing all this, ou r

liberty is not destroyed, bu t the choice upon th ese occasions is still free, and our own.

For here are two thi ngs proposed; and, t hough th e side we tak e, be not eligible for i ts

own sake, and when considered absolu tely; yet it is so, with regard t o the present strait s

we are in, and when compared with something which we avoid by t his means; and for

th is reason i t i s, that we make choice of it . And it is ut terly impossible that a man should

be carried to do anything with out t he consent of his own mind; For he, that does a thin g

without his own choice, is lik e a man thr ust down a precipice by some stronger h and,

which he cannot resist; and th is person is at th at time under the circum stance of an

inanimate creatu re; he does not act at all , bu t is pu rely passive in the case. So th at,

when we really do act, t hough wi th never so great u nwil lingness and r elu ctancy, yet still

we choose to act, after such and such a manner.


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ways, when yet the necessity th at l ies upon t hem i s the same. Some choose to comply

with what is im posed u pon th em, for fear of endu ring some greater evil, i f t hey refuse it;

others again are peremptory in the refusing it, as look ing upon such compl iance to be a

greater evil, than any pu nishment they can possibly undergo, upon account of their

refusal. So that , even in th ose actions that seem most in volu nt ary, th ere is still a place

for l iberty and choice. For we must distinguish between wh at is volu nt ary, and what i s

free. That only i s volu nt ary, which would be chosen for it s own sake ; bu t that is free,

which we have power t o choose, not onl y for it s own sake, but for the sake of avoiding

some greater m ischief. And indeed, there are some cases, in which we find both

somethin g volun tary, and somethin g involunt ary meet. For wh ich r eason th ose are

properl y called m ixed acti ons; that i s, when what i s eligible upon th ese occasions, is not

simply and absolu tely so, bu t carr ies somethin g along with it , which we shoul d never

choose, if we could help it. And Homer very elegantly describes the perplexity of thought,

this mixture of voluntariness and involuntariness, in the soul, when he say to this

purpose,

Great str ife in my di vided breast I find ,

A will consent ing, yet unwillin g mind.

These th ings I t hought fit rath er to enlarge upon, because almost all t he following book

depends upon t his di stinction of the things in our own power: for, the design of it being

wholly moral and instru ctive, he lays the tru e foundation here at first ; and shows us,

what we ought to place all our happiness and all our unhappiness in; and that, being at

our own disposal, and endu ed wit h a pr inciple of motion fr om wit hin , we are to expect it

all fr om our own actions. For th ings that move mechanically and n ecessaril y, as they

dr ive their being from, so they owe all t he good and evil they are capable of to, someth ing

else; they depend u pon t he impr essions made upon them fr om wit hout , both for t he

th ing it self, and for the degree of it . Bu t those creatu res, whi ch act freely, and are

th emselves the cause of their own motions and operations, receive all th eir good and evil

from these operations. Now these operations, properly speaking, with regard to

kn owledge and speculati ve matt ers, are their opin ions and apprehensions of t hings; bu t

with regard to desirable objects, and matters of practice, they are the appetites, and

aversions, and t he affections of the soul . When th erefore we have ju st i deas, and our

notions agree with the things themselves; and when we apply our desires and our


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aversions to such objects, and in such measures, as we ought to do; then we are

properl y happy, and att ain to that perfection, which natu re hath designed us for, and

made peculi ar to us: but when we fail in these matt ers, th en we fail of that happin ess

and perfection too.

Now by our own actions, I mean such, as are wrought by ourselves only, and need

noth ing more to effect t hem, bu t ou r own choice. For as to actions th at concern th ings

without us, such as sciences and t rades, and supplying the necessities of hum an li fe,

and the makin g ourselves masters of knowledge, and th e instru cting others in i t, or any

other employment s and pr ofessions of credit and r eput ation i n the world; th ese are not

ent irely in our own power, bu t r equir e many h elps and external advantages, in order to

the compassing of them. Bu t t he regul ating of our opinions, and our own choices, is

properl y and enti rely our own work , and stands in need of no foreign assistances. So

that our good and evil depend on ourselves; for this we may be sure of, that no man is

accoun table for those thin gs, that do not come within the compass of his own power.

Chapter. 1. (cont.)

But our bodies, possessions, reputations, preferments, and places of honor and authority ,

and in short, every thing besides our own actions, are things out of our own power.

Comment.

The reason, why these are said to be out of our own power and disposal, is not, because

the mind hath no part in them, or contri butes nothing towards them; for i t i s plain, that

both our bodies and our estates, are put in to a better or a worse condi tion, in proportion

to th at provident care the soul t akes of them, or the neglect she is gui lt y of with regard

to them. The soul does also fu rn ish occasions for the acquir ing credit and fame, and by

her diligence and wisdom it is, that we attain to posts of greatness and government. For

indeed there could be no such thing as the exercise of authority, especially as the world

goes now, without the choice and consent of the soul. But, because these things are not

totally at her di sposal, and she is not the sole and absolu te mistr ess of them, bu t mu st

be beholden t o the favorable concurr ence of several other th ings, to compass them;

therefore they are said not be in our own power. Thus the body requires sound seminal

pri nciples, and a st rong consti tu tion, convenient diet, and m oderate exercise, a

wholesome dwelling, a good air, and sweet water, and strength, and ability to perform

the functions of natu re, will depend upon all t hese. And yet these are all of them things

so far out of our own reach, that we can neither bestow them upon ourselves, nor keep


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off the contrary Inconveniences, when we would. When a more potent enemy rushes in

and assaults us, we would be glad to lie undiscovered, but cannot make ourselves

invisible. When we are sick, we desire a speedy recovery, and yet our wishes do not br ing

it to pass.

The case is t he same wit h our wealth and possessions too; for these are owin g to a world

of fortunate accidents, that contribute to our getting them and to as many unfortunate

accident s, that conspire to depri ve us of them; accidents t oo might y for u s to struggle

with, or to prevent .

Repu tation and fame, are no more in our power, t han r iches: for, t hough by the

management of ourselves, we give the occasions of esteem or disesteem; yet sti ll th e

opinion is not ours, but their s, that entertain i t; and, when we have done all we can, we

lie at t heir m ercy, t o thi nk what they please of us. Hence it comes to pass, that some,

who are profane and ir religious men at the bottom, gain the character of piety and

virt ue, and impose, not u pon others only, but sometimes upon t hemselves too, with a

false appearance of religion. And yet on the other hand, others who have no notions of a

deity, bu t what are highly r everent and becoming, th at never charge God wi th any of ou r

frailt ies or im perfections, or behave themselves lik e men t hat th ink so of hi m, are

mistaken by some people for infidels and atheists. And thus the reserved and temperate

conversation, i s despised and t radu ced by some, for mere senselessness and stu pid it y.

So that the being well esteemed of is by no means in our own power, but depends upon

the pleasure of th ose, that th ink well or il l of us.

Posts or au thorit y and government cannot subsist, wi thout in feriors to be govern ed, and

subordin ate offices to assist in govern ing them: and part icu larly in such states, as allow

places to be bought and sold, and make preferm ent the price, not of merit , bu t m oney;

there a man, that wants a pu rse, cannot r ise, th ough he woul d never so fain. For whence

we conclude, that all t hi ngs of th is natu re are not i n ou r own power, because they are

not our works, nor such as follow upon our choice of them.

I only add one remark more here, which is, that of all t he things said to be out of our

power, the body is first mentioned; and that for this very good reason, because the wants

of this expose us to all the rest. For m oney is at t he bott om of all wars and contenti ons;

and th is we cannot be without ; but mu st seek i t , in order t o the providing convenient

food, and raiment, and supplying the necessities of the body.

Chapter. II.


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The things in our own power, are in their own nature free, not capable of being

countermanded or hindered; but those that are not in our power, are feeble, servile, liable

to opposition, and not ours but anothers.

Comment.

After having distin gui shed between t hose th ings that are, and t hose that are not, in our

own power; he proceeds, in th e next p lace to descri be the quali ti es proper t o each of

them. The former sort he tells us, are free, because it is not in the power of any other

th ing or person, eit her to compel us to them, or to keep us back form them. Nor i s the

for th i s is

t he t ru e not ion of fr eedom, t o govern oneself as one pleases, and t o be under t he

comm and and dir ect ion of n o oth er wh at soever. But the thi ngs out of our power,

which are subject t o be given or wit hheld, i t i s not we, but they are masters of them, i n

whose power i t is to commu nicate them to us, or keep th em from u s; and th erefore these

are not free, but servile, and at the pleasure of others.

So again, t hose th ings are self-su fficient , and consequent ly fi rm and str ong; bu t these

that depend upon the assistance of another, are weak and indigent.

pretend t o correct m y opinions, and compel me to such or such part icular notions? Who

is able to put a restraint upon my desires or my aversions? But now the th ings that are

not i n our power, are so cont ri ved, as to depend upon th e inclinations of other people,

and we may have th em, or lose th em, as they please: and accordingly t hese are subject

to many hindr ances and disappoin tment s, so as either never to be at all, or to be

destroyed again when they have been; never to be put into my hands, or to be snatched

away from me, after that I am possessed of them.

Once more, it is evident , that the thin gs in our power, are our own, because they are our

acti ons; and th is considerati on gives us t he greatest pr opriety in them th at can be: bu t

those that depend upon the pleasure of anybody else, are properly anothers. From

whence we must in fer, t hat every kind of good or evil, wh ich respects th e thin gs in our

power, is pr operl y ours; as for instance, t ru e or false apprehensions and opinions,

regular or i rr egul ar desires, and th e lik e: th ese are the things, th at make a man happy or

unhappy. But for the th ings ou t of our power, t hey are none of ou rs: th ose that relate to

the body, belong not t o the man, str ictl y speaking, but only to our shell , and our

instrum ent of action. But if we talk of a littl e reputation, an empty and popular


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applause, alas! This is someth ing much more remote, and consequent ly of li tt le or no

concern at all t o us.

Chapter. III.

Remember then, that if you mistake those things for free, which nature hath made serv ile;

hindrances and d isappointments, much trouble, and great distractions, and be continually

finding fault both w ith God and man. But if you take things right, as they really are,

really belongs to him; nobody shall ever be able to put any constra int upon you, nobody

shall check or disappoint you; you shall accuse nobody, shall complain of nothing, shall

never do anything unw illingly, shall receive harm f rom nobody, shall have no enemy; f or

no man will be able to do you any prejudice.

Comment.

He had told u s before, what was, and what was not in our own power, and described the

qualit ies peculi ar to both sorts, and what r elation they bear to us: th at the th ings in our

th at men wou ld m anage themselves, suit ably to th e natu re of th ese th ings, and not be

gui lt y of perverse and ri diculous absur dit ies, with regard to th em. For th is is the true

foundation of all the happiness, or the wretchedness, of our lives. The succeeding well

in our att empt s, at t aini ng to t he good we aim at , and rest raini ng all t he mi schi ef

t hat could befall us, makes us happy. The bein g disappoin t ed in our h opes, m i ssin g

our ends and advant ages, or t he fall in g in t o mi schiefs and i nconv eni ences, are th e

t hi ngs t hat make us miserable. Bu t n ow, if your h appiness consists in regular desires,

and just aversions, and these desires and aversions are in our own power; we must

seek our happiness here, that we may be sure to find it ; and t o find t hat happiness,

which is properly ours, and peculiar to us. (And we shall be sure to fi nd i t ; for how i s

it possible we should not , when t he regulat i on of our desires and aversion s,

depends ent i rely upon our selves?)

On the other hand, i f we place our affections and desires upon t hings not in our power,

and expect to find our happiness in such; t his double misfortu ne must needs follow

upon it: One way the disappoint ment i s unavoidable, that, t hough we should prove

successful , and obt ain wh at we are so fond of, yet st il l t hese t hi ngs are not what

we t ake t hem for, nor can we meet wit h t hat, whi ch is proper our happiness in


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them. But besides, it is agreeable to all the reason in the world, to believe, that generally

we must needs be disappointed of the things themselves. For how should it be otherwise,

, as if it were his own; and when

he mu st depend upon other persons and accident s, whether he shall ever obtain it or

no?

Now the natu ral consequences of such disappointments are, the being interrup ted, and

having all our measures broken, and a world of gr ief and remorse, when we find our

pains have been emp loyed t o no pu rpose, and th at we are engaged in wrong courses.

For, as pleasure and joy are th e effects of good success, the accomplishing what we wish,

and being delivered from what we dread; so, when we are overt aken by t he mischiefs we

feared, and defeated in our endeavors after that we desired, we presently fall into trouble

and discontent , and complain of everyone that we th ink contr ibu ted to our misfort un e,

and spare neither men, nor sometimes providence, and God himself.

Besides, there is another mischief comes of this. For by being so t enderl y affect ed for

t hi ngs t hat are not in our power, we lose someti m es th ose th at are; and h e th at

depri ves us of what he could t ake away, robs us of what he hath no power t o t ake

fr om us; viz. Regul ar and m oderat e desire and aversion s. But if we be disposed and

affected as we ought , and make a tru e distin ction between wh at is our s, and what is not;

if we sett le ou r affections, and bestow our care, not u pon th ings which belong to

another, but upon our own, ou r pr oper happiness, and wh at falls with in t he compass of

our own power; t hat i s, upon t he entert ainin g such desires and aversions, as are

agreeable to reason and n atu re; then we may rest secur e, that we shal l never be ann oyed

by any constraint or compulsion, any disappointment or hindrance; but shall have the

sole government, and entire disposal, of such desires and aversion. And if so, then we

shall have no occasion of grief or remorse: for that can happen but in two cases, either

the missing of what we wished, or the falling into what we feared, and would fain have

avoided. Now we can never be frustr ated in our desir es, nor ever be damaged by any

inconvenience we fear, pr ovided we will but make those th ings our care, whi ch are in our

own power. Consequently, we can never live in awe and dread of any man; for the

reason, why we fear anybody, is because he may do u s some preju dice, or some way

obstruct our advantage. Bu t n o man ali ve hath it in his power to offer violence to our

desires and aversions; and t hese are the thin gs, in which t he man who li ves according to

the dictates of right reason, places his happiness. At this rate, we can have no enemy


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neither, for he is account ed our enemy, that does us m ischief; but nobody can do th is to

a man who is out of the power of all m ank ind to hu rt him: By the same reason, such a

person wil l accuse no man, complain of noth ing, nor ever do anything against his will .

So th at t he l i fe of th is man is unt ain t ed wit h pert urbat ion and sensual pleasure,

m ust needs be above all gri ef, and all fear, absolut ely fr ee, and exqui sit ely h appy.

And h ere we may observe fart her, how excellent ly well he proves t he li fe of a wi se

and good man, to be not onl y t he best and m ost for one s advant age, but t he

For, as Plato tells us, every creature

does, by natu ral i nsti nct, endeavor after pleasure, and run away from pain . Now some

pleasures attend t hose th ings, that are tr u ly good and advantageous to u s; and others,

th ose that are prejudicial and hu rt ful . And this m akes it necessary t o take good heed

what choice we make, that so we may embrace and pursue, and accustom ourselves to,

the enjoyment of such pleasures only, as may be beneficial to us. Temperance, (for

example,) is really m ore deli ght ful t o a vir t uous man, t han extr avagance and

licentiousness are to the dissolute. This needs no other p roof than that m any

debauchees leave their loose way of living, and turn sober, when they consider, and

come to a better sense of th ings. Bu t th ere are no instances to be produced, of any

temperate persons, wh o proceed u pon wise and reasonable considerati ons, that ever

abandoned themselves to debauchery and Excess. Now if this way of living had not more

th an ordin ary pleasure in it , men would never choose it with so mu ch eagerness and

sati sfaction. And, t hat su ch a vir tu ous life as th is, mu st needs be more easy and

pleasant, Epictetus demonstrates, from its being free and uncontrolled, above checks

and contradictions, above hin drances and disappoin tm ent s, but depending and doing all

good and evil i n t heir own actions, and the use of that l iberty and power, wh ich natu re

hath given t hem.

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commentary on epictetus 1