commentary on epictetus 20-28

7/30/2019 commentary on epictetus 20-28

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Commentary on Epictetus' Enchiridion

(Chapters 20-28)

by Simpliciu s (c. early sixth centu ry)

Chapter. XX.

That person is properly my lord and master, who hath it in his power to gratify my wishes,

or to inflict my f ears; to give what I desire to have, or to take from me what I am loath to

and to have neither desire nor aversion for anyth ing in the power of others: for he that

does not so, is sure to be a slave as long as he lives.

Comment.

Here again we meet with another severe reflection upon the world, and a just censure

upon those, who abandon themselves to the love and the cares of it. For by this means

we do not only betr ay our m inds to misery and t roub le, when our desires are fru strated,

and t he misfortu nes we fear, overt ake us; but , whi ch is more, we sink in to a state of

slavery, and subm it , not t o one, but t o many m asters, to a th ousand i m peri ous and

m ercil ess mast ers. For whoever i t be, says he, that h ath i t in h is own power, t o grat ify

our desires, or to bring our fears upon us, to give what we would fain have, or to t ake

away what we are loath to part w ith, that person is most t ru ly our l ord and master. So

that, at t his rate, every passi on, and every acci dent , ty rann izes over t he worldl y

m an, wit hout resist ance or cont rol.

With what hu mble submission do we cri nge to those that have the riches, or

preferments, or honors we desire, in their disposal! How servile are all our applications,

and how obsequious all our behavior, that we may incline th eir favor, and prevail for the

advantages we propose to our selves from i t? And again, when any of these enjoyment s

lie at their mercy, wit h wh at terr ors and misgiving fears do we approach t hem? What

mean acts do we make use of, to keep t heir count enance and good graces? And h ow

pit ifu lly do we flatter and fawn u pon them, to secure the cont inu ance of that, which they

may deprive us of whenever t hey please? So poor and pr ecarious are all th e goods of

fort un e, so absolu te

bestow, or call back again , is properly his; and n othin g is really ours, but what falls

ent irely wi th in the compass of our own power and choice.

If th en l iberty be, as cert ainly i t i s, a most desirable thing; and if we woul d assert our

own freedom, and break our chains; the course we mu st take, is, to cont ract our fears



and desires, to cont ain them wit hin their proper sphere, and n ot suffer t hem to rove

abroad, or fix them upon anyth ing withi n the power of any bu t ou rselves. For if we do so,

our slavery i s sure, and the instances of it i nfin ite. Our desires are our masters, when we

would obtain them, and our possessions, when we dread the loss of them: our aversions

are so, when we fear dangers, and our misfort unes, when we fall in to th em.

To this we may add another observation too; that every m an i n t hese cir cum stances is

subject t o t wo mast ers; one at hom e, and anoth er abroad: for t he brut al appet it e

wit hi n, wh ich m oves our r eason, (th at i s, our selves, whose very essence consists i n

t hi s) and carri es it away capti ve, submi t s both reason and it self t o anot her m ast er,

whi ch i s th e out ward object of our passions: so t hat we are not only slaves, but t he

m eanest and m ost abject of t hem all, even t he slaves of slaves.

Besides, other servants have some in tervals of freedom and leisure at least; th ey are not

some times; night and sleep sets t hem fr ee; and t hey obtain leave and ease now and

then, under the hardest government. But our attendance is without any intermission; we

can n eit her fly from our m asters, nor wil l they ever r emi t or di spense with our service;

sleeping and waking we still drudge on, and are ever laboring to satisfy the insolent,

unju st, and extravagant comm ands of our cruel t yrant s. No moment of rest is allowed

us, after once we have submi tted t o them; bu t they are perpetually teasing, and

harassing us, and employing us either wit h wicked actions or words; or when t here is an

opportunity for neither of these, then distracting us with idle thoughts and fantastic

imaginations.

Nay, which is yet worst of all, and t he most deplorable aggravation of our misery i n other

cases, the bett er sort of servants h ave a sou l above their condit ion, and owe their

bondage to the necessity of their affairs, and t he rigor of a penu rious fort une: but ours i s

not our fate, but our choice; we hug and are fond of our chain s, are perpet ually

cont ri vin g t o bin d our slavery faster upon us, exceedingly i ndustri ous t o make

ourselves m iserable, and i ngeni ous in f in ding out new meth ods of rui n; t hat i s,

ever seek in g out some fresh object of desir e or f ear; and, in order t o it , comply in g

wit h such comm ands, as are never obeyed, but t o our i nf i ni t e dam age, if not our

ut t er undoing.

Chapter. XXI.



Let it be your constant care, to behave yourself in all the affairs of human life, w ith the

same decency that you w ould at a public entertainment If anyth ing be offered you, receive

it w ith modesty; if it passes by you, and be sent to another; do not withhold it from him, or

keep what w as not intended you. If the dish be not yet come down so low; show not

yourself eager, nor snatch at it greedily, but w ait pat iently, ti ll i t comes to your turn.

Manage yourself with the same good manners and reservedness, in case of a wife, or

children, or honors, or riches, or power, or preferment. This w ill render you w orthy to be

entertained by the gods. But if you can conquer appetite so far, as even to refuse and

disdain the delicious meats tha t are set before you: this w ill not only qualify you to feast

w ith the gods, but exalt y ou to the same dignity and perfection w ith them too. Such were

generous scorn

were justly esteemed, and in reality were, divine persons.

Comment.

After so many argument s used to check t he mighty pr opensit ies of hum an natu re, and

restrain his scholars from too eager a pursu it of the goods of fort une; lest his discourse

should prove less persuasive, for being thought too severe; he tells us, that it is not his

intention to debar men from all communication with the world; and therefore he

instru cts us, what advantages they are allowed to part ake of, and how they ought to

demean themselves with regard to them. He had before indulged us the use of not only

th e necessaries, bu t the conveniences of human li fe; provided t hat we accepted of th ese,

as additional enjoyments, and did not mistake them for our main concern, but kept our

minds and eyes constantly intent upon the ship, and (as he expressed it there) were

of thi s ki nd is presented to us, we may receive it, whether it be a wife, or children, or

ri ches, or advancement; bu t t hen we must take it modestly and decent ly, and not suffer

our appeti tes to grow im patient, and snatch or reach at i t ru dely, before it i s offered. So

again, i f th ey were once ours and are taken away (for thu s I u nderstand t hat expression

of passing by, and being sent to somebody else) we must by no means detain th em, h e

says; that is, we should part wit h t hem patient ly, neither str ugglin g to keep them, nor

repinin g at the loss. If they be not yet come to us; it wil l ill become us t o desire them

before our tu rn , to feed our wishes and im aginations with t hem, and be so taken u p wit h

th ese, as to forget both vir tu e and ou rselves.



When they are given to us, we must not receive them even then voraciously, and with too

much seeming transport; but decently and gently, that so we may keep ourselves above

them, and use them pru dent ly, wit hout sufferi ng our affections to be overpowered by,

and wholly immersed in them.

Now the condi tion of men in the world is here represent ed, by people met togeth er at a

comm on entert ainment ; where Almighty God makes the invitation and the feast; and

every one of the guests part akes of the provision, according as his own appeti te stands

affected. Some behave themselves with a prudent reserve, li ke well -br ed persons; as th e

dictates of reason and natu re direct t hem, and i n a manner acceptable to the Master of

th e Feast, so as to seem guests wor th y of the gods. Others again , are insolent and

unr ul y, greedy and glu tt onous, i nju re themselves, and displease the Great Lord t hat

receives them.

Bu t t he especial excellency is yet behind. For i f you are a person of so exalt ed a vir tu e,

as not only to wait with patience, and accept wit h modesty, bu t even to declin e and

slight t hese worldly advantages, which the generalit y of mank ind dote upon so infini tely,

and can deny yourself wh at t he Master of the Feast offers t o you ; th is i s the utm ost

perfection mortalit y is capable of: th e world is n o longer worthy of such a person; he

hath tr anscended hum an natu re itself, and is not only fit to be a guest of the gods, bu t

to be admit ted int o a share of th at dignit y, and t hose divine excellencies, which he hath

wrought himself up to so near a resemblance of.

This was t he case of Crates and D iogenes, the lat ter of wh ich expressed so just a

contempt of the world, that when Alexander the Great saw him baski ng in t he warm

sun , and asked, what h e should do for him; he desired no more, than only that h e would

stand ou t of the sunshine. Which answer gave so tru e an idea of th e gallant ry of his

soul, that this mighty conqueror thought that philosopher a braver and greater man,

than himself in all his triumphs; and said, that he could wish, if that were possible, to be

Diogenes; bu t if not, th en his second wish should be to contin ue Alexander.

circumstances in it, as it sees most suitable and convenient, advances those persons to

the table of the gods, who manage the encumbrances of the body and the world,

according to the directions given us, and temper all t heir actions wit h pru dence and

moderati on. But when men do not only manage, but tr anscend, the world and it s

enjoyments; when th ey get qui te above these th ings, and exercise an absolu te mastery



over them; t hen th e same providence calls up th ose souls, which so well im itate the

divine excellencies, into a sort of partnership and government; and makes them (as it

were) its assistants in the disposing of things here below. For, what can we think less of

them, wh ile they sit enthr oned on high, and look down, and order all t hings, with such

undisturbed security, and so imperial a sway, as if they themselves were no longer a part

of this universe, but, like those beings above, were distinct and separate from it, and

governed their own world?

For this reason Epictetus says, Heraclitus and Diogenes, who had a generous disdain for

these things, were justly esteemed, and in reality were divine persons. And indeed, they

are tru ly so, who live up to th e utm ost perfection of their natu re, and divest t hemselves

of all concerns for the body and the world. They are spiritualized already, and have no

more to do with any impressions of flesh and sense. This is the utmost perfection of a

hu man mind; and whatever is absolu tely perfect, is divine; because it is of God, who is

the source and sum of all perfections.

Chapter. XXII.

When you see a neighbor in tears, and hear him lament the absence of his son, the

hazards of his voyage into some remote part of the world, or the loss of his estate; keep

upon your guard, for fear some false ideas rising upon these occasions, surprise you into a

mistake, as if this man were really miserable, upon the account of those outw ard

accidents. But be sure to distinguish w isely, and tell yourself immediately, that the thing,

which really aff licts this person, is not really the accident itself, (for other people, under his

circumstances, are not equally aff licted w ith it) but merely opinion, w hich he hath formed

to himself concerning this accident. Notw ithstanding all w hich, you may be allowed, as far

as expressions and outward behavior go, to comply w ith him; and if occasion requires, to

bear a part in his sighs, and tears too. But then you must be sure to take care, that h is

compliance does not infect your mind , nor betray you to an inw ard and real sorrow, upon

any such account.

Comment.

As this considerati on, that th e desirable things of th is world are not, and cannot be our

happiness, th ough we should suppose a man never so prosperous, should restr ain ou r

eagerness, and check our too forward desires after them, so that other reflection, that no

external m isfort un e can m ake us trul y miserable, should be an argument no less



prevailing, to buoy up our spirits, and make us entertain them with courage and

resolution.

To th is pu rpose, our author ur ges the following instance, of a man in great grief and

lamentation for some calamit y; the death or t he distance of a darli ng child, th e loss of an

estate, and being reduced to extreme poverty, or the like. And the caution he gives upon

such occasions, is, that the spectators would not suffer themselves to be born down by

mi serable by any of these disasters: for, t hey are to recollect th emselves, and consider ,

in the world, or any of the good or bad event s from wi thout .

Bu t i f th is be so, how comes it then t o pass, that this person is so infin itely afflicted, as if

some real i ll had happened to him? The accident , it is plain , cannot be evil in i ts own

natu re. Were it so, all persons t hat lie un der the same misfort un e, would feel the same

impressions, and be carri ed t o an equal excess of gri ef. For th is is a r ule in n atu re, that

natural qualities have always the same operation; and what feels hot to one, will feel so

to everyone that touches it. At t his rate then, everyone who bur ies a son, mu st mourn

and lament ; and yet Anaxagoras, when news was brought him of the death of his, made

answer, wi th all th e bravery and u nconcernedness in t he world, Well, I kn ew my chi ld

cou ld be no more than mortal. Bu t wh at then is the tru e cause of all this melancholy?

s of this accident: this is the root of all the disease;

and our opinions are properl y our own. So that we will grant the groun d of thi s excessive

grief to be not only a seeming, but a real evil; bu t then the mistake of th e person stil l

remains; for it is not in any accident from with out , but rises enti rely from wit hin him self,

and is owing to nothin g else bu t his own wr ong apprehensions. And th is is both a real

evil, and properly ones own too, because opinions are some of the things within our own

power, and the tru th and falsehood of these depends pu rely upon t he will, and falls

within the compass of our own choice.

You wi ll ask perh aps, in the next place, what behavior i s proper in such a case? Is no

compassion du e to th is afflicted mistaken m an? And mu st I only, wit h a sull en

magisterial pr ide, condemn his err or, and chide or scorn his folly? By no means. This

deportment is unsuitable to the character of a good man. You are allowed therefore to

pit y and comply with h im, to condescend i n some measure to hi s frailt ies, to speak k ind

and tender things, and if you see occasion, to drop a few tears for company. Nor is all



th is to be pu t on m erely for ostent ation, or to show good natu re: for dissimu lation and

tr ickery is what n o circumstance can render excusable to a good man. Bu t your tr ouble

may be real; and indeed, there is but too just a pretence for it, when you see such an

instance of human infir mit y, as a man who th ink s the misfortu nes of the world worth so

immoderate a concern.

Bu t sti ll you mu st set boun ds to your pit y and condescension, for grief is catching; and

therefore be sure to take care, th at it does not fasten u pon your min d, and so you fall

in to the same disease of a real concern for the accident it self. If once you sin k so low,

you are for the fu tu re incapable of doing the sorr owfu l any service. He that would be

advances indeed, and some compli ances; but he mu st be sur e to keep out of the reach of

in fection too. A man wh o stands stil l u pon the bank, and wil l not so much as step in to

the water, can never dr aw his friend out when he is drowning; and a man t hat j um ps in,

and lets the same stream carry hi m away too, can as lit tle do it. He that appears

insensible, a

passion, and br ing him to reason; bu t he that su ffers t he same passion to overcome his

own reason too, wil l be so far from serving his fr iend, th at he himself m ust be beholden

to the assistance of some thir d fr iend.

Chapter. XXIII.

Remember, that the world is a theatre, and that your par t in th is play of lif e is determined

by the poet. Upon him it must depend, w hether y ou shall act a long or a short one: whether

you character shall be high or low: if therefore he assigns y ou that of a beggar, take care

to humor it well; if a cripple, or a prince, or a private obscure man, or whatever i t be, make

the best of it: f or consider, that the playing of the part assigned you commendably,

depends upon yourself. This is your business; but the giving out of the parts, and choosing

Comment.

In one of the chapters a lit tle before, thi s present life, and the distribu tion and

enjoyment of the comforts and advantages of it, was compared to a public

entert ainment , and the maker and m aster of that entert ainment was said to be Almight y

God, who left us at liberty, either to accept, or to refuse, the dishes set before us. For

th is reason i t was, that such pains were taken to correct and form our appetites ari ght ;

and t o instr uct us, how we ought to govern ourselves, and our choice, wit h r egard to all



external event s, past, pr esent , and fu tu re. For , at feasts every guest feeds on wh at is set

before him , according as his own palate stands, and h is own ju dgment d irects him.

Bu t here we meet w ith another k ind of representation; l ife is resembled to a play, in

which every man breath ing bears a part , bu t the composer, and dispenser of these part s

is God. For in t his respect th e present simi lit ude differs from t he former, th at in it we are

not left t o ou r own disposal, whether we will accept what is assigned u s or not.

Providence hath appointed our character, and we cannot change or decline it. There are

infinite instances of this kind, which seem to carry a plain fatality in them. For though,

when r iches are offered us, i t is in our powers t o reject t hem, and embrace a volun tary

povert y; yet when povert y or sickness is laid out for u s, it i s not th en i n our power t o

decline th ese. So again, we may choose whether we wil l be masters and govern ors, or

not; bu t we cannot choose whether we will be servants or subjects, or not.

All then that is left to our own liberty h ere, is the management of what falls to our share;

and t he blame or the commendation, t he happiness or th e misery, of a man in such

cases, does not consist properly, in desiring or not desiring, accepting or refusing, (for

th is last does not fall within our sphere) bu t in such a management, as is stil l left at our

own liberty; that is, in behaving our selves decent ly or otherwise, suit ably or un suit ably

to our condi tion. For, t hough we cannot avoid povert y or sickness when we wou ld, yet

we can m ake a virt ue of necessity; and, if we please, can carr y our selves handsomely

un der t hem. And all t he fate in the world cannot t ie us up so far, bu t t hat th e

hu sbanding and mak ing the best of those th ings, which we cannot help, shall be still as

much in our own breasts, as of those, which we choose and procure for our own selves.

he that gives ou t t he part s, accordi ng to the parti cular hu mors of the actors; he takes

notice of their qualifications and abil it ies, and t hen suit s the persons to th e characters

they are capable of. One he appoints to personate a prince, another a servant, another a

madm an, (for everyone is not fi t t o play Orestes.) Thus far h is care goes, and he is

answerable no farther: for the persons, to whom these parts are assigned, must account

for t he doing them justice and action.

For t his reason i t i s, that men do not ju dge of the entert ainment of a playhouse, by the

greatness or quality of the character, but by the just proportion, and t he natur al

represent ation , and t he gracefu lness of the action i tself. How often do we see a beggar, or

a servant , or a m adman, clapped, and at the same time, a ri ch m an, or a general, or a



ki ng hissed? The reason of which is, th at one hath hit the hu mor of his part, and

maintained the character he was to appear in, and the other do not so. The beggar

behaved himself as a beggar should do, and the king sunk beneath the grandeur of his

post; and t his behavior was the proper business of th e actors themselves, though the

choosing, whether they should personate a king, or a beggar, was not.

Ju st th us we find i n thi s vast t heatre of the world. How many emperors, and wealthy,

and str ong lusty men, h ave spoiled their par ts, wh ile the poor, t he lame, th e slave, th e

despised Epictetus, performed h is, with the approbation of his great master, and t o the

wonder of all the spectators? For t hough h is part had l ess of pomp and show than

their s, yet he studied the character t horoughly, and k ept i t u p to the very last, and

answered the design and directions of the poet, who destined him to it. This was his

happiness or misery can consist in anything, but wh at falls with in h is own choice; so

neither wil l any wise man al low, that either pr aise or comm endation, honor or in famy,

belongs properly to anyth ing else. And consequently, i t is not the part, but the manner of

acti ng it, t hat every man disti nguishes himself by.

Chapter. XXIV.

When the ravens croak or any other ominous th ing happens, let not any superstitious

fancies disturb or affr ight you: but have immediate recourse to this dis tinction, for the

quieting your fears, that nothing of th is k ind can bode ill to you: to your body, or your

estate, or your reputation, or

disaster happens in any of the fore-mentioned respects, you may, if you please, reap some

very considerable advantage from it.

Comment.

This chapter seems to me to be misplaced, and would be more methodical, if set before

the former, and imm ediately after t hat which begins with if you see a neighbor i n t ears,

&c. For, h aving told u s there, th at a man ought not t o be too sensibly affected wit h t he

excessive passion of those, who think themselves unhappy, for the loss of any of the

comfort s of th is world; n or sympath ize so far, as to imagine, th at such a one is really

miserable upon any of these accounts; (since

does not consist in any outward pr osperous or adverse events, but pu rely in the use of

his own free will , and t he practice or neglect of what God and natu re have made ent irely



the object of hi s own choice and power) here he adds, that i f any in auspicious bir d, or

other omen seems to foretell mischief and ill -lu ck, this ought not to terr ify or discompose

us. But , though we should suppose them to carry any ill por tent to our bodies or ou r

fort un es, yet we must di stingui sh between these and ourselves; and shou ld consider,

th at our own happin ess and m isery depends upon our own disposal, and can come from

noth ing but ourselves.

Do but resolve then n ot to make yourself u nhappy, and all the most dir eful signi fications

of misfortu ne, and all the misfort un es consequent to those signifi cati ons, shall never be

your estate destroyed or wasted, your wife or childr en t aken from you ; but stil l all th is

does not reach yourself; that is your reasoning mind. This can never be miserable, nay,

it mu st and wi ll be happy, in spite of all t hese ill -bodings, except if you consent to your

own wretchedness: for all your good and evil depends wholly upon yourself.

Nay, which is more, and the greatest security imaginable, these very misfortunes shall

conspire to render you yet more happy. For out of this bitter you may gather sweetness,

and convert what i s generally mistaken for misery, to your own might y benefit. And t he

greater t hose calami ti es are, the more considerable will th e advantage be, provided you

manage them pru dent ly, and behave yourself decent ly u nder them. Now it is plain from

hence, that these are not evils, properly speaking, for whatever is so, must always do

hurt, and can never change its nature so far, as to contribute to any good effect. Since

th en these may be so ordered, as to become subservient to your good; and since no il l

can come to you , but what your self mu st be instrumental in , and accessory to; you mu st

of necessit y grant, t hat all omens, and all the evils thr eatened by them, are not, and

cannot be evils to you yourself, unless you please to make them so; and that all they can

pretend to, is to affect something that belongs, or bears some distant relation, to you.

Chapter. XXV.

It is in your power alw ays to come off conqueror, provided y ou will never engage in any

combats, but such, whose successes will be determined by our own choice.

Comment.

He had said just before, that no ominous predictions bonded any il l t o men, except they

brought the evil upon themselves, because i t is in t he power of everyone not t o be

miserable. And th is chapter I take to be a fart her prosecuti on of that argum ent , and

added by way of proof and confirmation t o the former.



Fir it is in our own power, never t o enter t he lists with any external accident s; that is, we

may so restr ain ou r desires and aversions, as not t o concern ourselves wit h them. If we

stake our happiness upon t he success of such an encounter, we must needs retire with

loss; because such desires will meet with frequent disappoint ments, and such aversions

cannot always deliver us from the dangers we fear. Let al l our com bat s th erefore be

confin ed t o ourselves, and t o such t hi ngs, as nat ure hath put in t he power of our

own wills; for when you strive with your own desires, and aversions, and opinions,

t he pri ze is in your own hands, and y ou m ay rest secur e of danger or

disappointment. This he had shown at l arge formerly, and t his i s in effect t he same

th ing, as to say, th at a man shall never be vanquished, but always come off

tr iumphantly.

to be mi serable: for h e t hat i s mi serable, is a subdued man ; and, if i t depends u pon

own breast too, whether any omens or predictions shall portend ill to him. So that

Epictetus h ad reason, when he pronoun ced so peremptori ly, that no in auspicious events

are signified to any man, u nless himself conspires to make them so: th at is, u nless he

engages in such disputes, as he is not quali fied for, and where the victory is doubt ful at

least, if not sure to go against him. And this is done by everyone, who overlooks his own

mind, and pl aces his happiness and unh appiness, in th e events of fort une, and t he

affairs of th e world.

Chapter. XXVI.

Take heed, when you see any person advanced to an eminent station of honor or power, or

any other k ind of prosperity , that you be not presently surprised w ith a false idea of his

condi tion, and rash ly pronounce him happy. For, if all the happiness and tranquilli ty of our

minds depend upon things w ithin our own power, there can be no room for envy or

emulation. And you yourself, when you consider, do not desire to be a general, or a

senator, or a consul, but to be free and easy. Now the only way to be so, is to despise the

world, and everything that is out of your own power

Comment.

The only method of insur ing a conquest upon all encoun ters, the last chapter t old us, is

never to engage with what i s out of our own power. Bu t because we are exceedin gly apt

to be drawn in to such conflicts; and by noth ing more indeed, th an by the examples of



other persons, who seem prosperous, and happy, and by th e envy and emu lation th at

usually follows upon such occasions; therefore he shows us here very briefly, that

nobody, who makes the real happiness of a man his serious study and sincere endeavor,

is capable of envy or emulation; and that it is utterly inconsistent with his principles, to

be gui lt y of eit her.

For if t he proper happiness of a man depends u pon th e use of his free-will, and upon

th ose things that are subjected t o it; and i f th e persons who are promoted t o power and

honor, and courted with popular applause and admiration, have not in all this any of

th ose advant ages, which natu re hath pu t in our own power; it is mani fest, th at these

seemingly happy men are not in realit y such; nor have they, by this advancement,

attained to any degree of that, wh ich is the peculi ar and t ru e happiness of hu man

nature. What occasion t hen can all t hese flatt er ing appearances give for envy or

an impatient desire of raising ourselves up to an equality wit h oth ers, who exceed u s in

somethin g, wh ich we take for happiness.

Now th e original cause of these passions is rooted in our natu re and consti tu tion; which

determines us to thi rst after honor and esteem, and i s uneasy, when we come behin d

any of our equals. Hence it is, t hat men of mean sou ls, and vulgar att ainment s, and

such as despair of advancing themselves by the strength of their own worth, endeavor to

undermine, and detract from, others of better desert , th at so they may rise upon their

ruins. And to such ungenerous tempers no consideration is so afflicting, as the good

successes of their neighbors: and in th is vile disposit ion the very essence of envy

consists. For envy steals in upon the prosperous, or those that are esteemed so; but

especially, if t hose persons are upon t he same level wi th our selves, eit her in respect of

their bir th , or fortu ne, or profession, or oth er accomplishments. For persons either very

mu ch above, or very mu ch below ourselves, are not t he object of our envy. Because these

are not a match for u s, but the one sort excites our admir ation, and t he other pr ovokes

our contempt.

But where nature hath given a greater strength of parts, and a more active and generous

disposit ion, t here men feel a gallant warmth of soul, wh ich exert s it self vigorously, and

struggles to come up to the perfection of others, by virt ue of ones own merit , wit hout any

invidious arts of lessening theirs: nay, not only to come up wit h t hem, but to ou tstr ip

them in the race, and bear away the prize. From the difference then of these two



tempers, and the practices consequent to them, we may plainly perceive, that envy is a

vicious passion, and no qualification can render it otherwise. But emu lation is

sometimes commendable, and nearly related to the love of goodness, when virtue is the

th ing we str ive to excel i n; but it degenerates int o vice, and i s lit tle bett er than envy,

when the advantages of fortune, and the world, are the prize we contend for.

Since therefore good i s the proper object of envy and emu lati on; and since preference in

honor, or power, or repu tati on, is only mistaken for such by the vul gar, but can really be

no such t hing; because none of these fall wit hin our own choice; it i s plain, t hat i n m en,

who examine matters nicely, there can be no such passion, as envy and emulation,

excit ed upon any of these accoun ts. Consequent ly, t hese are resent ments, most

unbecoming a man, who makes wisdom and virt ue his stu dy, because they plain ly

argue, that whil e he accoun ts such persons wort hy of hi s envy or emu lation, h e does

likewise expect to find his happiness, in those advantages which they enjoy. Now this

cont radicts t he very fir st pr inciples of phi losophy, and i s inconsistent with t he character

he pretends to. For the thing that ought t o be first in his desires, is liberty; the breakin g

th ose chains h is passions have bound him in, and gett ing loose from all the

encumbr ances of the world. And the only way to deliver himself fr om this bondage, is t o

slight and disdain the world and to assert his n ative freedom, from all those external

accident s, those rivals in his affections, which subdued and enslaved h is mind. For

these only have the power to vanquish and captivate him , by disappoint ing his hopes

and expectations, and oppressing him wit h the calamit ies he fears. Upon t hese it i s, that

our bru tish inclin ations let t hemselves loose; and from hence comes all th at r emorseless

tyranny, wh ich t hey usurp, and so arbi tr arily exercise, over u s. The contempt of the

world therefore is the most effectual method of reducing all int o order again, for by a

brave and just scorn of those outward objects, we weaken the desires that lead to them;

and when once those succours are intercepted and cut off, these cannot stand alone; but

fall i n of course, and submit themselves to r eason.

Chapter. XXVII.

Remember, w hen any man reviles or str ikes you, it is not the tongue, that gives you the

opprobrious language, or the hand that deals the blow, that injures or aff ronts you; but it

is your own resentment of i t, as an in jury or affront, that mak es it such to you. When

therefore you are provoked, this is owing entirely to your own apprehensions of the thing.

And especially guard yourself well against the first impressions; for if you can but so far



subdue your passion, as to gain time for cooler thoughts, you w ill easily a ttain to a good

government of yourself af terwards.

Chapter. XXVIII.

But be sure to keep death, persecution, and banishment, and all those calamities, which

mankind are most af raid of, constantly before your eyes, and let them be very famil iar to

your mind. But above all, let death be ever present there: for you w ill f ind this a most

excellent remedy against base and mean thoughts, and a powerful restrain t to all

immoderate desires.

Comment.

After having again exposed the vanity of all those imaginary happinesses, which men

depend u pon the world for; and h aving shown u s, that a gallant and generous disdain of

these, is the only possible course of setting our souls at liberty, and living easy; he

proceeds in the next place, to take off all those formidable objections, which men are apt,

eit her t o raise merely for d iscourse sake, or used t o feel the discouraging effects of in

themselves, while they are yet bu t r aw and un tr ained in t he discipline of wisdom and

virt ue. And in th is he observes his form er method, of having recourse to the fir st

principles of morality.

The sum of what the objectors have to say, is this: That such a contempt and neglect of

the world, how great and gay so ever they may look at first, are yet really attended with

many inconveniences; for they render men despicable and cheap, keep them impotent

and low, and l ay them open to all t he insolences and in ju ries imaginable, whi le they are

neither in a capacity to repel the wrongs that are done them by force nor can descend so

low, as to prevent them by flattery, and servile applications. When people see this, there

is no indigni ty, th at they have not il l natu res enough to offer; no libert y, that t hey will

not give themselves; nor t ongue, nor hand wil l k now any restraint . And th us we see

daily, th at when men have got the ascendant , there is nothing they stick at; they wound

such unresisting philosophical persons in their reputation, with slanders and

reproaches; offer violence and indigni ties to their persons; treat t hem wit h all m anner of

contumely and scorn; oppress them in their estates; drive them fr om their dwelli ngs;

clap them in to prisons; make them fly their coun tr y; and, as if all t hi s were too lit tle,

sometimes take away their very lives too. Now, who would choose to be thus trampled

upon, and not only choose, bu t m ake a vir tu e of it t oo? A virt ue, that provokes the most



barbarous injustice and all manner of affronts, and leaves a man naked and defenseless

to them all?

To all this Epictetus replies in short , that th ere is nothin g grievous or t err ible in all t his

dismal representation. For if there were, all the world would agree in esteeming it so. But

in trut h, t he only t hing that carries terr or in it, i s the opinion we entert ain of these

in ju ri es being such. So th at th e affront is not from th e action of th e person th at offers

but from the opinion of the person that resents it; and consequently, we expose and

injure ourselves; for these opinions are our own act and deed.

Now, th at reproach and slanders are no such m ighty affliction, nor what ought t o move

our indignation, and disquiet ou r m inds, will very easily be made apparent. For, th ey

mu st be eit her t ru e or false. If th e former, why so very loth, and so very mu ch

displeased, to hear the truth? Our shame in this case comes too late; and we should

have done mu ch bett er, in hati ng to commi t the fact, than in hating to be told of it

afterwards. But if what is said of us be false, it is the report er, and not we, that are the

worse for it .

What course then is to be taken in th is case? He tells you, t he remedy is, not to let th is

affront make too sudden and sensible impressions upon you, nor provoke you t o

lamentations and complaints, as if you thought yourself unhappy upon this account;

bu t to give your self leisure to recollect, and consider the tru e natur e of the thi ng calmly

and coolly. For if you once can gain time, and defend yourself against the surprise of the

th ing, you wi ll l ive easy and quiet, and your m ind wil l be in a conditi on to weigh and

apply the pri nciples of philosophy, and to distinguish, whether t his accident be anyth ing

within your own power or not. And, when you find it to be somewhat that your will

cannot comm and, the resu lt of th is will present ly be, to conclu de, that neither your

happiness or unhappiness can depend upon i t; and th at, be it as bad as it i s possible to

suppose, yet you have it in your power to convert it to an excellent use; and, by a true

elevation of soul, which expresses a decent contempt of the world, and all its malice, to

reap great advant ages from such cross accidents as these.

Now the best expedient for evenn ess of temper i s custom. And th erefore, upon any such

provoking occasion, there is no preservative against false notions and immoderate

and foam wi th in , yet sti ll to stifle the fire, till we fell its heat abate; and not let loose the

dog, ti ll he have done snarli ng. This practice is recommended to u s parti cular ly by t he



example of Socrates, who was taken notice of, for never speaking a word, when anything

angered him.

What Epictetus says upon th is subject, and t hat which follows in t he next chapter, have,

in my opinion, so close a coherence, that they ought to be connected by that particle

Bu t, wh ich seems to me by no means redundant , but a very significant conjuncti on is

th is place. Thus then the auth or carries on h is argument; But as for death and exile,

and all those calami ties which mank ind are usually afraid of, be sure to keep these

constant ly before your eyes; and so on.

For, having proved, concerning all external events in general, even the most dismal and

dreadful of them all, th at there is not anything formidable or inju rious i n the natur e of

resentments of them; he prescribes caution, and leisure, and cooler consideration, as the

best remedy against such i mpr essions, and part icularly against our being enr aged at, or

dejected under, any vexation or cross accidents. But he directs to another sort of

application, against death, and exile, and such m isfort unes, as are of the first and most

form idable kind; which is, to bear them continually in m ind, and live in expectation of

them every m oment , as things that may come at any t ime, and some of which most

cert ainly will come, at one time or other. For when once reason hath convinced u s, that

these th ings are not r eally such, as make a man one whit the bett er, or the worse; and

when customary meditat ion hath reconciled us to them, taken off all t heir terror, and

rendered the thoughts of them easy and famili ar t o the soul , we present ly look u pon the

most dreadful of th em all , as thin gs frequent and common; and by this means we feel

both our spiri ts supported against the terr ors, and our affections mu ch moderated, and

weaned from the pleasures of the world.

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commentary on epictetus 20-28