THE LIFE, AND PHILOSOPHY, OF EPICTETVS. With THE EMBLEME OF Humane LIFE, By CEBES.
Rendred into English, by JOHN DAVIES of Kidwelly.
LONDON, Printed by T. R. for John Martyn, and are to be Sold at the Sign of the Bell without Temple Bar, 1670.
TO THE Right HONOURABLE, PHILIP HOWARD OF NORFOLK, Lord Almoner to her most Sacred Majesty of Great Brittain, &c.
TO prove the productions of the Ancients extraordinary and transcendent in their kinds, it would be hard for me to bring a greater Testimony, then the present I heer make your Lordship of these two small, yet Master-Pieces of Morality. The veneration [Page] and esteem wherewith they have been entertain'd through so many Ages sufficiently argue, that Time, with all its envy, hath not been able to make any diminution of their Original excellency.
For, who can reflect on Epictetus, wihtout a certain astonishment at his exemplary Constancy? Who can think on the strictness of his Precepts, without framing to himself an Idaea of that noble Insensibility, which the Stoicks requir'd in their Virtuoso? Who can view him so indifferent and unconcern'd in the greatest emergencies, [Page] and not be convinc'd, that there may be an undistracted pursuit of Vertue through all the disgraces and inconveniences of humane Life? Who, in fine, shall consider him laying down Humility for the Ground-work of his Morals, and not be surpriz'd at the strange illumination of a Heathen Philosopher?
These, my Lord, were the Characters which endear'd Epictetus to all the lovers of vertuous action, and rais'd him out of the miseries of Servitude into a familiarity with Emperours. From which considerations [Page] I must acknowledge my self encourag'd to recommend him, in his present dress, to your Patronage, presuming that, with these Qualifications, he must be kindly receiv'd by a Person, who hath prefer'd the splendor arising from Christian Austerities and Mortifications before all the advantages of Nature or Fortune; and with him the sincerity and submission wherewith I am,
THE PREFACE.
TO make some estimate of the value which hath been from time to time set on the Dictates of Epictetus, we may content our selves with this remark, that so many Learned Hands have been employ'd either in the rendring of them into other Languages, or the explication of them in his own. In the Latine, there are many Versions, of all which it is not our design here to give any [Page] particular account. In English, I cannot find that it hath appear'd above once before, done as close as could be to the Original, and as well as the English could bear it: which Edition came out about the year 1610. entituled, The Manual of Epictetus.
In the French Tongue, several eminent Persons spent their pains about it, among whom Monfieur Boileau is the last, and consequently the most exact, in regard he had consulted all that had gone before him on this subject. His labours herein prov'd so acceptable, that in few years his Work came to a third Impression, [Page] which appearing abroad in the year 1667. is the Original of this Translation. It seems, in the precedent Editions Mons. Boileau had intituled it The Enchiridion of Epictetus; but in the last, out of complyance with the advice of some Friends, and a reflection that some Words, as they are not so easily pronounc'd, so are they not so easily naturaliz'd as others, he put out that Title, and call'd it, the Philosophy of Epictetus.
Monsieur Du Vair, who some years since translated this Tract, was pleas'd to call it also the Manual of Epictetus. But our Author [Page] declin'd that name too, partly out of a consideration that the Word Manual seems to be particularly consecrateed to Works of Devotion and Piety, and partly, that Enchiridion is a Greek Term, which, in this place, properly signifies a Ponyard. The reason alledged by Simplicius, why Arrian gave it that Title, is this; That, as Ponyards are light Armes, which we commonly carry about us, to be us'd when we are surpriz'd by our Enemies: So should we always have this little Book before our eyes, that we may the better oppose the assaults of our Passions, a kind of domestick [Page] Enemies, whereof we should be alwaies distrustfull. Had our Author been satisfy'd with this fancy of Simplicius, he would still have entituled his Book, the Ponyard of Epictetus; but somewhat improperly, inasmuch as besides that it might have frighted some Readers, it sounded not well to attribute either defensive or offensive Armes to Epictetus, a Philosopher so signall for his Constancy and Patience. Vpon which reflections he thought best to call it simply the Philosophy of Epictetus.
Mons. Boileau affirms further of himself, that, for the better understanding [Page] of the Original Author, he got all the helps he could out of the Discourses of Arrian and the Greek Commentary of Simplicius, an excellent Work, comprehending the whole Morality of the Stoicks. He saies also, that, among the many Latine Versions, he kept most closely to those of Politian and Wolfius, as the most exactly done; not forgetting the late labour of Salmasius upon this Piece, in a large Commentary upon that of Simplicius.
But what our Authour most esteems in this Work of his, is the Life of Epictetus, which had [Page] not been written in any Language before, and consequently must require the greater pains, since it was to be collected out of so many several Authors. Had he pleas'd he might have made it larger; but some things have been omitted, that it might be the more proportion'd to this Abbridgment.
At the end of the Philosophy follows Cebes's Tablet, that is, an Embleme, or Representation of Humane Life, before which there is a Preface giving an account of it. These two Pieces have been for the most joyned together, [Page] partly upon a consideration of the allyance of the Subject, and partly upon that of their Antiquity.
THE LIFE OF EPICTETUS.
EPICTETUS was born neer the end of Nero's Empire,Suid. in Epist. at Hierapolis, a City of Phrygia. Of his birth there is no certaine account, for his Father and Mother are equally unknown, All the certainty we have of him is, that he was aArrian. Diss. l. 1. c. 9. Slave of one, named Epaphroditus, a Libertine, and one of the Captains of [Page 2] Nero's Life-Guard, a person recommendable upon no other score, save that of being Master to so illustrious a Slave.
Arrian relates of this Epaphroditus two actions, among others, worthy certainly the Genius of the person, and which I the rather take notice of here, because, I conceive, they perfectly expresse his character. One day, this Man, sold to another Officer of Nero's, one of his Slaves, named Felicion, by profession a Shoo-maker, as accounting him no expert Workman. That Slave coming afterwards, by that means, to be the Emperour's Shoo-maker, and Epaphroditus hearing of it, treated him with extraordinary civilities and respects, and at length made him his greatest Friend and Confident.
Arrian. Diss. l. 1. c. 26. Another time, a certain Man casting himself at his feet, extreamly deploring the crossnesse of his Fortune, and complaining, that, of all his estate, he had but a hundred and fifty thousand crowns left, Epaphroditus made answer, In troth, Friend, I much wonder, that you have had the patience to forbear speaking of it so long. Which he sayd, not by way of ralliery, but very seriously, and out of a real admiration.
[Page 3] It was under the verge of this imperious Master thatAul. Gel. Noct. Att. l. 12. c. 11. Suet. in Domit. Philost. l. 7. Dion. Chrysost. de Exil. Euseb. in Chron. Epictetus pass'd away the first years of life. About what time, or how he obtained his Liberty, is not known; onely this we find, that under the reign of Domitian, there being a publick Edict, for the departure of all the Philosophers out of Rome and Italy, Epictetus was oblig'd, among others, to retire to Nicopolis, a City of Epirus, now called Preveza. This is a clear argument, that he had then obtain'd liberty, since he was forc'd, as a Philosopher, leave Rome. Nor indeed is it to be imagin'd, that a person of his merit, belov'd and esteem'd by the Emperours of his time, should continue in Slavery.
It is generally beleeved, that after his exile, he never return'd to Rome, and that his constant aboad was at Nicopolis, l. 2. c. 6. for Arrian affirms in severall places, that the Discourses he collected of his, were held by him at Nicopolis. But I question the truth of this conjecture, notwithstanding the Authority ofIn Not, ad Epist. & Sim. P. 4. Salmasius. ForIn Vit. Hadr. p. 8. Spartian writes, among other things, that the Emperour Hadrian entertain'd this Philosopher with much familiarity. Now how that could be, I [Page 4] cannot imagine, if Epictetus continued still at Nicopolis. But whether Epictetus liv'd in that City or not, is of no great concern to his Life.
Nor do I know whether he were ever married; but as I affirm it not, so do I neither deny it. Forl. 3. c. 7. Arrian obferves that Epictetus blam'd the Epicureans for their speaking against Marriage.Arr. Diss. l. 3. c. 22. But that he was not married, seems deducible hence, that though he did not account Marriage imcompatible with vertue, yet he thought it a great obstacle to the attainment of perfection. But whether he were married or not, it is very likely he had no Children, or at least no Daughters. For besides that his having any is not mentioned in any Author;In Dem. Lucian relates, that one day Epictetus perswading Demonax to take a Wife, Demonax jeeringly made answer, ‘Well, I am content to do it, conditionally you give me one of your Daughters.’
Moreover,In Vit. Hadr. Spartian affirms, that Hadrian exercis'd great liberalities and respects towards the Poets, Orators, Philosophers, Mathematicians, and all Professors of Science. But whatever [Page 5] Spartian relates of that Prince, of whom it may be sayd, that never any man took such pleasure in abusing and scoffing at those very persons, as he did; certain it is, that Epictetus was always very poor, and that neither the sayd Emperour, nor his Successors, who so highly esteemed him, did advance him much, if at all, in matter of wealth; and possibly this might proceed from his great contempt thereof. For it is granted, he lived at Rome in a little house, which had not so much as a door.Vincent. Obsop. l. 3. Anth. a [...] Epig. Epictet. All the Attendants he had was an old Servant maid, and all his Houshould-stuff, an earthen Lamp, by the light whereof he brought forth those noble and divine reflections; of which we have at this day the remainders in the Books of Arrian. Whence it may be guessed how poor he was.
But to return to his Sentiments and Morality; Modesty was his darling and most familiar Vertue. Hence came it, that he affirmed,Strob. Ser. 38. ‘There was no necessity of adorning houses with Tapestry and Pictures; but that they were to be furnished with Modesty and Temperance; for those were the ornaments that last alwaies, and never grow old, or are [Page 6] out of fashion.’ He had so far renounc'd ambition and ostentation, that if ever Philosopher did things out of humility, it may be said that he was the person. For as there was not any man, in his time, that did so many good Actions as he; so was there not any that ever made it so much his business to conceal them, and to have it believ'd that he had not done them. Whence it came, that amongst the Instructions he gave his Disciples, these were the chiefest: If you are so happy as to have learnt to satisfie your body with little, Enchir. Epict. make no ostentation of it. If you have brought your self to a custom of drinking only water, forbear bragging of it. If you have a desire to enter upon some painful exercise, do it privately. Whatever may come of it, do nothing out of a design to be observ'd, or admir'd by the people. All these affectations are vain, and unbecoming a Philosopher.
And indeed Epictetus was at so great a distance from vanity, that though he were the ablest of any of his time, to Write, yet was he never inclin'd to do it; though that be an humour which hath been predominant over the noblest Souls. For if his Disciple Arrian had [Page 7] not reduc'd to writing,Aul. Gell. Noct. Att. l. 17. c. 9. what he had heard him deliver by word of mouth, Epictetus would haply have been a name unknown in the world.
He was of opinion also, [...]. that a true Philosopher ought to do, and not to speak. He accordingly affirm'd, that most of those, who took upon them to be Philosophers, were only such as to the denomination; but not such in effect. One day, a certain person being displeas'd at some others pittying of him;Arr. Diss. l. 4. c. 5. Friend, said Epictetus to him, you are much to blame for being so angry. For upon this very account that you are offended at your being bemoan'd, you are deservedly pittied. Another time, observing a Man who was engag'd in a most infamous Debauch, and careless of all honour and reputation, falling into discourse of Study and Philosophy, he cryed out; O extravagant man! what dost thou mean to do? A. Gell. Noct. Att. l. 17. c. 19. Hast thou consider'd whether thy Vessel be pure and clean, before thou pourest any thing into it? For otherwise, whatever thou hast put into it, will be corrupted and turned into Vrine or Vineger, or something worse.
A. Gellius, who relates this passage, conceives there could not be any thing [Page 8] more judiciously, or more truly spoken; as if he would insinuate, that when Philosophy, and the other Sciences fall into a sordid soul, defil'd with Vice; they are, as it were, in a foul and unclean Vessel, where they are tainted, and beget nothing but corruption.
But Epictetus had a quality,Arr. l. 4. Dissert. c. 12. which I esteem the more, in that it is a rare one, even in a Philosopher. He was an extraordinary lover of Neatness; and would say sometimes, that he would rather see one of his Disciples with his hair well comb'd, and in good order, than tangled and nasty. But though he were so great a lover of Neatness, yet was it not ever the more observable in his own person. He was infirm of Body, and lame, by reason of a defluxion fallen down into his leg. He does ingeniously acknowledge as much in an Epigram he made of himself, which might be thus rendred;
Planudes, In Antholog. Lib. γ. cap. [...]. in his Collection of Greek Epigrams, falsly attributes this to Leonidas, as Vincentius Obsopaeus hath well observ'd: and after him, Salmasius, who also pretends that this Epigram is not Epictetus's, and that it was added to A. Gellius by some not-deeply-learnt person. All the reason he gives of it, is, That it is not found in an ancient Manuscript of Aulus Gellius's: I am apt to believe it might be so. But if this conjecture be true; it must be also granted, that the same not-deeply-learned person had got it added to Macrobius, who cites it, as Epictetus's, in the first Book of his Saturnalia, c. 11. and brings in the same words of Aulus Gellius. But indeed the reason, arguing this Epigram not to be Epictetus's, is this, that it cannot easily be presum'd, a Philosopher, so remarkable for his modesty and humility, as he was, should speak so advantageously of his own worth.
Howere it might be, this is most certain, [Page 10] that Fortune had not the least kindness for Epictetus; yet did not her Persecutions ever oblige him to make his addresses ever the more to Great Persons. They are very much to blame, said he sometimes,Arr. Diss. l. 1. c. 19. to pride themselves in the conceit that so many court them with their respects and services. Do they imagine, that it is for their own sakes all these submissions are made? Everyone, as to that particular minds his own concern, which taken away they are soon slighted. They are justly serv'd, as Asses are: If they be rubb'd or curry'd, it is in order to some service to be got out of them. So we reverence those men, as men do the Feaver at Rome. If Altars be erected to her, it is out of a fear of the hurt she may do. But what so great mischief, Arr. Diss. l 2 c. 6. continu'd he, are we afraid of at their hands? The worst they can do is to send us into another World. What matters it? Must we not alwaies expect death? Are not all the waies of Death equal? And is not that, through which a Tyrant sends us, many times the shortest and the easiest? In a word, no Tyrant was ever so cruel as to be above six months in torturing a man to death, Whereas a Feaver is sometimes above a year ere it dispatches him.
When he met with any of those Persons, [Page 11] who are of opinion they transcend others, because they are in favour with the Prince, or can derive their Pedigree from a long series of Ancestors; he treated them after a very pleasant manner. You imagine, said he to them, because your Grand-father was Consul, Arr. Diss. l. 4. c. 1. your Father a Senator, and you are Caesar's Favourite, that you are more at liberty, and of better quality than another. Know that you are more a Slave, than the meanest Slave among the popular, and that the condition of such a one is better than yours. For if he be ill-treated sometimes by an imperious Master, you are continually domineer'd over and tormented by Ambition, or some other Passion. The only advantage you have over him is, that he is but a Slave in some course-cloath, and you are one in a Scarlet-coat. Besides, if he does not his duty, he must expect the lash or some such punishment; whereas, if you do not yours, you are somewhat more honourably dealt withal; for your head is struck off, as beseems a Favourite of Caesar's.
Thus were Persons of quality treated by Epictetus: So that his extream poverty, aud the meanness of his extraction, could not check him out of the humour of making sport at their Wealth, [Page 12] and imaginary Grandeurs: His vertue had exalted him above all those things, And though Fortune alwaies wreak'd her malice upon him, yet would he never repine, but pass'd away his life in perpetual content.
But if he might justly complain of the niggardlyness of Fortune towards him, as to corporeal accommodations; he was on the other side to acknowledge the profuseness of Heaven towards him, as to the advantages of his Mind. It seem'd the former had not declar'd her self his enemy; but that his triumph over her might be the more glorious. Nay, I dare affirm, that Bondage, and the infirmity of his Body were the necessary retinue of his Vertue, that it might appear with greater lustre to posterity. For, without flattery, never did any person force up constancy to so noble a height.
While he was yet a Slave to Epaphroditus, Origen. l. 7. cont. Cels. that humerous Brute would needs one time, make it his sport to wrinch his Leg. Epictetus, perceiving that he took a certain pleasure in so doing, and that he renew'd the exercise with greater strength, said to him smiling, and [Page 13] without seeming any way mov'd thereat; If you continue this sport, you will certainly break my Leg: Accordingly, that having happen'd, as he had foretold it; all he said to him was, Well, did I not tell you that you would break my Leg? Was there ever Constancy equal to this? Was it not, as I may say, an out-braving of Fortune's extravagance, and the infirmity of our Nature.Celsus affirm'd the patience of Epictetus, to be greater then that of Jesus Christ. Celsus transported with an Enthusiasme of Philosophy, makes this patience of his transcend whatever might pretend to that name, so far as to be guilty of an abhominable impiety, by heightning the patience of Epictetus above that of our Saviour Jesus Christ. If the malice of Time had not depriv'd us of the Book.Simpl. in Ench. Epict. init. which Arrian writ of his Life and Death, I am confident, we should have found many other as great examples of his Patience. Nor is it to be doubted, but that a man, who so suffer'd his Leg to be broken, had before made discoveries of his Constancy upon several other occasions. And indeed this Vertue was so attendant on him, that it forsook him not even in the most considerable actions of his Life. Thence it came that he said, [Page 14] If your Oyle be spilt, or your Wine stollen out of your Cellar; you are to make this reflection in your self, That by such casualties is Constancy purchas'd. But if he maintain'd these Maximes with much earnestness, he observ'd them with no less rigour.
For one day this Philosopher having bought an Iron-lamp,Arr. Diss. l. 2. c. 6. which he thought a very precious piece of Houshold-stuff; as he was in a deep meditation in the Chimney-corner, a Thief came into his Room, and stole away his Lamp, without his perceiving of him. So that a while after, Epictetus looking about, and missing his Lamp, fell a smiling, and without any disturbance, said, I shall deceive this Thief to morrow, for if he come for another Lamp, it shall be but an Earthen one.
True it is, we cannot affirm this action was of equal gallantry with the former; yet, in my judgment, it is no less remarkable. There is not ought wherein the Genius of persons is so discoverable, as in their trivial things inasmuch as the Soul appears therein as it were▪ stript of the disguise of all sorts of Passions: Whereas in grea [...] matters she is in a manner alwaies disguis'd; [Page 15] Interest, or Ambition causing her, most commonly, to act contrary to the natural bent of her inclination.
But to return to our Philosopher; it may be truly said, That never man knew better how to suffer, than he did. It was a Science he had learnt even from his tendrest age, and wherein he improv'd himself to the last moment of his life. He needed not Companions in his misfortunes, that he might derive Consolation from their joynt-suffering. He never sought any but in himself; and if his mind were sensible of any grief, it was only of the grief of others. He thought it the greatest mark of the malignancy of a corrupt nature, to imagine evil less burthensom, when several other persons participate of it with us: as if our sufferings were heightned, or remitted, proportionably to the augmentation or diminution of theirs.
According to this Principle was it, that he affirmed those persons were ridiculous, who complain'd, that none were unjustly dealt with but themselves. How, said he, if you are sentenc'd to have your head struck off, would you have all other [Page 16] Men condemn'd to the same punishment; and can you find no Consolation, but in the destruction of Mankind? Thence it came that Epictetus so highly celebrated the constancy, and great courage of Lateranus. For Nero having condemn'd him to have his head struck off, and the Execution [...] having but slightly wounded him at th [...] first blow, he had the heart to lift up his head, and to stretch forth his neck the second time. Nay, a little before his death, Epaphroditus making some Interrogatives to him about the Conspiracy he was charg'd withal, he undauntedly made this Answer; If I had any thing else to say, Arr Dis. l. 1. c. 2. I would tell it thy Master, and not Thee.
As Epictetus was the most resolute, and the most constant of all Men; so were the judgments he made of Resolution, and Constancy, better and more sound, than those of any other. For though he were most intimately acquainted with these two Vertues, as being his first and most ancient inclinations, yet could he not endure them, if they had the least blemish, that rendred them insupportable. A [...] he would not have a Man to be heartless and cowardly, [Page 17] so would he neither have him to be temerarious. When a man might go through a plain, or some easy passage, he would not have advis'd him, to take his way through steepy and rough places. He was not of the humour of that Philosopher,Diog. Laert. in vita Pyrrh. who would rather have a Cart pass over his body, then turn out of his way to avoid it. Epictetus behav'd himself otherwise; for when Epaphroditus made it his sport to break his legg, he generously endur'd it; but if Epaphroditus had had the good nature, to have forborn that diversion, he had very much oblig'd him. He thought it as great a vanity and shame, for a man to run himself into danger, where there was no necessity for the doing of it, as there was honour and Virtue, to embrace it, when his duty oblig'd him thereto.
But when Reason requir'd a man's exposing of himself to danger, he would then have him think of no delay, but look on all inconveniencies and difficulties as so many trials of our Virtue, and occasions, contributing to our glory. Had Hercules, [Page 18] said he, ever been Hercules, if that Lyon, that Hydra, that wilde Boar, and all those Monsters, whereof he disburthen'd the Earth, had not exercis'd his courage? How is it to be imagin'd, he should come to the height he attain'd, if his Virtue had not met with employment? What advantage could we have made of all his strength, all his patience, and all his courage, had he not embrac'd the occasions of making discoveries thereof? Not that it is to be inferr'd hence, that he would have a man wish to see whole Provinces pester'd with Lyons and Hydraes, that he might thereby signalize his valour: but he only maintain'd, That the casuall meeting with these Monsters had made a fortunate discovery, what kind of person Hercules was.
Epictetus said further, that Helvidius had been admirably well convinc'd of this truth; that he had perfectly studied these Maximes, and that never any man had been more indivertible from his Sentiments, then he. When he once thought it his devoir, and conceiv'd himself oblig'd in Conscience to do something, though the Emperour, the Senate, and the People should [Page 19] have conspir'd together, and contributed their joynt endeavours, to obstruct what he was resolv'd to do; yet was not all that combination of Emperour, Senate, and People able to tempt him to the least act of meanness.
It happen'd one day, that Vespasian was desirous to get something pass'd in the Senate. He, well acquainted with the humour of Helvidius, Arr. Diss. l. 1. c. 2. and knowing he would be sure to oppose it, forbad him to come that day into the Senate. Helvidius having receiv'd that message made the Emperour this return, That it was in his power to deprive him of his charge; but that while he continu'd a Senator, he could not exempt himself from doing his duty, and coming to the Senate. Be it so, reply'd Vespasian; I am content you should come thither, conditionally you say nothing. If I am not press'd to give my vote, answers Helvidius, I promise you to be silent. But there is a necessity of my requiring your advice, saies the Emperour. There is in like manner, replies Helvidius, a necessity, that I should answer [Page 20] you, and that I should speak what I conceive just and reasonable. If you do so, and that it oppose what I would have done, added Vespasian, I shall put you to death. When did I ever tell you, replies Helvidius, that I was immortall? you will execute your charge, and I will endeavour to do the like by mine. It may be your part to sentence me to banishment, and it is mine chearfully to submit thereto. It is your part to order my death, and mine, resolutely and undauntedly to receive it.
I make the less difficulty to fall into these little Digressions, because I observe that Plutarch is no enemy to the like, and that they are not the meanest Ornaments of the Lives which he hath written.
Epictetus was also a great admirer of the Constancy express'd by Agrippinus. Arr l. r. c. 2. For, some one telling him, that an Information, which concern'd his life was put in against him in the Senate, he made answer, I am glad of it; but what time of the day is it? Being told, it was about five in the After-noon, Come, repli'd he, let us go to the [Page 21] Bath, it is time to part. Being return'd home a little while after, news was brought him, that the Information was found against him. Well, said he, what am I sentenc'd to? to Death? No, repli'd he who brought him the tydings, you are only condemn'd to banishment. Very well, repli'd Agrippinus, let us sup to night at Aricia.
Epictetus had further a particular veneration for Pyrrho, A Town about two Leagues from Rome. the Sceptick, upon this account, that he put no difference between Life and Death. He esteem'd above all the reply he made to a certain person, who thought to make some sport with him. For that man saying to him, Why dost thou not therefore dye, Pyrrho, since it is indifferent to thee, whether thou livest or diest? That is the very reason of it, repli'd he.
In a word, Epictetus would have all Philosophy to consist in Constancy and Continence. Whence he had allwaies these words in his mouth, [...], Bear and Forbear, but the grace and energy of the saying is much greater in the Greek, than in [Page 22] any modern Languages. Thence it came, that he was so much taken with the procedure of Lycurgus towards a Lacedemonian, who had struck out one of his Eyes. For the people having deliver'd up the person to be punish'd; Lycurgus, instead of revenging himself upon him, instructed him in Virtue. Wherein when he had made a considerable proficiency, he order'd him to be brought upon the Theatre, to the great astonishment of the People, who thought him dead long before; and said to them, This man, whom you deliver'd up to me as a wicked and perfidious person, I now return you vertuous and just.
The more we look on Epictetus, as an unbyass'd esteemer of mens Actions; the more glorious is it to the memory of these great Persons, to have had such an Approbator as he was. He, all his life, made profession of the Stoick Philosophy; that is, the severest and most austere of all Antiquity. Never was there any person who knew better how to reduce to practice the Maximes and Precepts of that Sect. For though he may be numbred among the last [Page 23] that apply'd themselves thereto, yet was he one of the greatest Ornaments of it. In his Discourses and Actions, he imitated Socrates, Zeno, and Diogenes. When he undertook any work, he first consider'd, what they would have done, upon the like occasion. When he reprov'd, or instructed any one, he alwaies entertain'd him with some example of those Philosophers. In fine, he look'd on them as persons infinitely transcending all others.
But, above all, he had a particular esteem for Socrates, and had fram'd himself to a stile like his. In his Discourses, he us'd comparisons so familiar, and so pertinent, that he insensibly won all to his Opinion. He was so persuasive, that he forc'd even such as disputed against him, to be witnesses of the truth he spoke. He was no affector of polite or elegant expressions; but if his Discourse were intelligible, and full of good sence, after the example of that of Socrates, he was satisfy'd. In a word, He had propos'd that Philosopher to himself, as the model, and rule of all his actions.
[Page 24] Though he much esteem'd Pyrrho himself, yet had he so strange a contempt for the Pyrrhonians, that he could not endure them. A certain Pyrrhonian one day taking a great deal of pains to prove, that the Senses alwaies deceiv'd men, he said to him, Who of your Sect intending to go to the Stoves, mistook his way, and went to the Mill? It was also an ordinary saying with him,Arr. Diss. l 2. c. 20. Were I a Servant to some of these Pyrrhonians, I should take a pleasure in tormenting them. When they said to me, Epictetus, poure some Oyl into the Bath, I would cast some Brine on their heads. When they call'd for Water-gruell, I would bring them Vineger. And if they complain'd of that usage, I would tell them their senses were deceiv'd, and would perswade them that Vineger and Water-gruell was the same thing, or I would make them renounce their own sentiments.
He declar'd himself a perpetuall enemy of Opinion and Fortune, by whom yet others thought the world govern'd. The greatest part, said he, of those things which we admire are but pure fantasticall humours. For instance, The Iliad, which is so much talk'd of, is it not [Page 25] a pure humour? An humour came into Paris's head, to carry away Helene; she was in a humour to follow him, and Menelaus must needs be in an humour to be angry at it. And this speaking properly, is the main design of the Iliad. But if Menelaus had behav'd himself like a prudent man, and had imagin'd, that he was no small gainer, by the loss of such a Wife, what had become of the Iliad? Would not it, and the Odysses, have been clearly lost.
As to Fortune, Epictetus compar'd her to a Lady of Quality, who prostitutes her self to Servants, and the meanest among such. He said that the Life, which had any dependence on Fortune, was like a Torrent after a violent shower, muddy, foule, hard to be got over, impetuous, and of short continuance. He maintain'd, on the contrary, that a minde addicted to Vertue was like an unexhausted everflowing Spring, whose waters were clear, sweet and pleasant to drink, in a word, not chargeable with any manner of corruption.
In like manner, it was his highest care to heighten himself up more and more towards perfection in the study of vertue. He had renounc'd all other [Page 26] pleasures, that he might the more intentively prosecute those of the mind. When he was at any great Feast,Stob. Ser. 1. he minded not so much the satisfaction of his body, as that of his mind. For it was his persuasion, that what was bestow'd on the body perish'd, and was never recover'd again; whereas what was bestow'd on the mind continu'd and was never lost: For this reason did he prefer the Tranquillity and indisturbance of the Soul, before all other things imaginable. And he held it for a Maxime, That as a man would be loath to be cast away in a Ship, though it were ever so beautiful, and loaden with Treasures and wealth: so how rich and sumptuous soever a House may be, a man should never be so carefull in the preserving of it, as to be crush'd by the burthen of excessive cares and disquiets.
This was also another saying of his. If Persia had been the place of your Nativity,Stob. Ser. 38. it is certain you would have had no inclination to live in Greece; you would only have wish'd to live happily in your own Country. When therefore a man is born in Poverty, to what end shonld he have the [Page 27] ambition to be rich? Why does he not rather frame himself to a contentedness in that condition, and endeavour to live happily therein? As it were better for a man never to lye in any but a narrow Bed, and to have his health; then to be sumptuously lodg'd, and to be sick: So ought it to be a mans wish rather to preserve an indisturb'd tranquillity and composure of mind, in a mean condition, then be tormented with Grief and Vexation, amidst a greater liberality of Fortune. We must not imagine, that our unhappiness proceeds from Poverty, but from Ambition. Nor are we deliver'd from fear, by Wealth, but only by reason. Whence it comes, that he who makes provision of Reason is content in himself, and charges not his grievances on Poverty. These were the reflections of Epictetus on those things whereof men make so great account.
He could not endure those persons, who sought pretences to conceal, or justifie themselves in their miscarriages. He said they imitated the Roman Curtezans; who to cover their shame and to justifie their Lewdness, made their advantage of Plato's Books of Common-Wealth; inasmuch as that Philosopher [Page 28] would have women to be common: not piercing into the sense, but lewdly interpreting the words of that great man. For he does not hold that a Woman married to one man should afterwards prostitute her self to all others; but he would abrogate that kind of Marriage between one Man and one Woman, to introduce another. For this reason Epictetus never bethought himself of any excuse, when he was once sensible that he had done amiss: on the contrary, he was never better pleas'd, than when his miscarriages were discover'd to him.
One day,Arr. Diss. l. 1. 6. 7. Rufus bitterly reproving him, that he had not observ'd an omission in a Syllogisme, he made answer. I have not committed so great a crime, as if I had set the Capitol on fire. How, wretch, replies Rufus, dost thou think there is no other crime, than that of firing the Capitol? Epictetus was so far from being displeas'd at so sharp a retort, that he gave Rufus thanks, and afterwards told the story to all the World.
Another time a certain person, who [Page 29] had been very wealthy, but then was fallen into extream Poverty, came and intreated him to write on his behalf to the People. Epictetus, glad to do him any service, writ him a most Obliging Letter, wherein he represented and bemoan'd his misfortune, in such terms, as might have excited compassion in Persons the least inclin'd to any. But when the other had read it, instead of giving him thanks, he return'd it him again, alledging, that his addresses to him were out of hopes of receiving some assistance from him, and not of being bemoan'd, which he needed not. That scornfulness so pleas'd Epictetus, that he thought himself more oblig'd to him for that Answer, than if what Worthy person had entertain'd him kindness, with the most insinuating Complements.
But above all things, Epictetus was extreamly nice in point of Friendship, and there needs be no more said, than that he was a Stoick, to give some security, that he was sincere and disinteress'd. He would not have a man think of consulting the Oracle, when he was concern'd in the vindication of [Page 30] a Friend.Enchir. Epict. He was perswaded, that it ought to be attempted even with the hazard of a mans Life. As he was maintaining one day, That only a wise man was capable of Friendship; one made him this reply, That though he were no wise man, yet he tenderly lov'd his own Son.Arr. Diss. l. 2. c. 22. 'Tis your imagination, Answers Epictetus. Did you ever observe little whelps playing together? It might be infer'd, from their sporting, that they had an extream kindness one for the other. And yet cast but a piece of meat betwixt them, and you will finde whether they effectually love one another. The case is parallel with that of you and your Son. Cast but a piece of Land between you and him, and you will discover whether, to gain that, he will not wish your Death; and whether within a while after you will not have a mortall aversion against him. Eteocles and Polynices, Were they not Brothers, the Children of the same Father and Mother? Had they not had their Education together? Had they not made a thousand protestations of inviolable Friendship? And yet when the Kingdom fell between them, which is the fatall Morsell, did they remember, or reflect on their promises? Was not the [Page 31] Friendship between them clearly forgotten? Did there not happen dreadfull Wars between them, and were they not desirous to kill one the other? Did not Paris live under the same roof with Menelaus? Did they not lodge in the same bed? Were they not continually together? And yet, did not the imaginary beauty of a wretched Woman make an irreconcileable distance between them, and engage them in the most bloody and most cruel War that ever was heard of? When it would be discover'd, continu'd he, whether two men are truly Friends; there is no necessity of enquiring whether they be related one to the other, or have had a joynt education. These are uncertain marks, and such as commonly do but trapan us. We are only to inform our selves of their Opinions, and their Manners; and if we finde they are truly vertuous, and well-principled, we may pass an assured Judgement of them that they are perfect in point of Friendship.
One day,Arr. Diss. l. 1. c. 11. a person of Quality making him a visit, he very civilly entertain'd him, and discours'd with him a great while. But after they had talk'd of divers things, Epictetus ask'd him whether he were married? I am [Page 32] so, said the other to my great sorrow. What cause have you to be so much troubled, repli'd Epictetus, For methinks people marry only in order to a more happy Life? I am so miserable, replies the other, that I have not a quiet houre. I so tenderly Love my Children, that I am in a perpetual apprehension, that some accident may befall them. And upon the least thing being amiss with them, I am like a distracted person, tearing the hair of my head, and deploring the wretchedness of my condition. Not long since, continu'd he, news being brought me, that my little Daughter was not well, I was so smitten thereat, that I had not the courage to see her, till I was assur'd, that she had recover'd that fit, and was grown better. Certainly replies Epictetus, you are a person of a very humorous Friendship; I could wish my Enemies had the same affection for me, as you have for your Children, and that they would Love me so well, as not to see me while I live. You do as a certain Gallant sometime did, who, being entred the Lists, was struck with such a fear, that he cast his Cloak over his Eyes, while his Horse [Page 33] galloped, and having afterwards casually got the prize, they were forc'd to apply Sponges to him, to recover him out of the swound he was fallen into.
When some said to Epictetus, that if he still liv'd in Poverty, he would never be in a capacity to serve his Friends.Enchir. Epict. How are you mistaken! reply'd he, Do you think that the assisting of Friends consists in the lending of money? No, no. True it is that a man ought to do what lies in his power, to get Wealth, that he may therewith relieve them, in their necessities; but if you can direct me how it may be gotten, in the age we live in, with the preservation of V'ertuous life and Integrity, I promise you my utmost endeavours to do it. And if you also expect it from me, that I should hazard the loss of those Goods I can call my own, in order to the acquisition of others which are not true Goods, Consider whether you are not very unjust, and whether you ought not to prefer a faithfull Friend before money? This certainly was an Answer beseeming a true Philosopher.
But what's particularly observable in Epictetus, is, that, of all the ancient Philosophers, he had the best opinions [Page 34] concerning the Deity, and the greatest insight into our Mysteries. His sentiments are so conformable to Christianity, that St. Augustine, as great an enemy as he was to the ancient Philosophers, speaks very advantageously of this Man; nay so far, as to honour him with the denomination of Most Wise. And no doubt St. Augustine had great reason to give him that Character,Arr. Diss. l. 1. c. 9. l. 2. c. 14. since Epictetus was clearly perswaded, of the Immortality of the Soul, a great admirer of Providence, a Mortall enemy to Impiety and Atheisme, acknowledg'd but one Divinity, and made Modesty, not to say, Humility, the ground of his Morals, as we have already observ'd.
But what I more highly esteem in him, is, that having been Nurs'd up in the Principles of the Stoick Philosophy, he suck'd nothing of its bitter. ness, And that he had wean'd his mind from most of its Errours and false Maximes.The Stoicks exalted their Wise Man above God. In a word, He had no tincture of those insolent Opinions, and ridiculous qualifications, which the Stoicks requir'd in their Virtuoso, or Wise Man. A man who had reduc'd [Page 35] all his Philosophy to Practice, and one, who, by the acknowledgment of all subsequent Ages since his time, was the most knowing and the most humble of all the Philosophers, such a man, I say, must needs be far from any imagination of his being above God. So that if Epictetus was a Stoick, he was a much more reform'd Stoick, than any of the rest. he had not so great a Devotion for the School of Zeno, or was so sworn to the observance of his Morality, as that he would not sometimes transgress the rules of it. On the contrary he gloried in opposing them, when he thought them not consistent with good Manners and Prudence. and certainly, if St. Jerome made it no difficulty to place a Philosopher of the same Sect in the Catalogue of the Saints, What may we think of Epictetus? For, not to urge that he alwaies spoke very clearly of the immortality of the Soul, and that Seneca never fully express'd his sentiment as to that point, he hath this further advantage over him, that he never approved that pernicious and tragical Maxime of Stoicks Cloister, so receiv'd [Page 36] and so inveterate,Arr. Diss. l. 1. c. 9. That it was lawfull for a man to be his own Murtherer: Wheras Seneca alledges it, and maintains it in several places. Which is a consideration so much the more pressing, by as much as there is nothing so opposite to the Doctrine of the Gospell.
I know Wolfius is not of this opinion,Annot. in Diss. Arrian. l. 1. c. 24. and pretends that Epictetus was fallen into that Errour, as well as the rest of the Stoicks. but I know also, that it is very likely, Wolfius is mistaken, as to that particular. For the only Text on which he grounds that Conjecture, is this that Epictetus affirms, in Arrian, That when a man is weary of acting his part, he is to remember, That the Door is open.
But when he saies, The Door is open, He means not by those words, That a man may be his own Murtherer. His meaning is plainly this, that when we are weary of Life, and the condition we are in, it concerns us to remember, that our Term is almost expired, that within a short time we shall be delivered from that disquiet, and that infallibly we shall dye. This [Page 37] was the reflection of Epictetus, And, to be assured of it, we need only observe, how clearly he expresses himself to the same purpose, in another passage, where he derides those, who are much troubled for the morrow. Thus then he speaks to them. If you have any thing to eat to morrow, [...]. you will eat, if you have nought, you will forbear eating: the worst that can befall you, is to go into the other World, The Door is allwaies open for you. This passage is as much to the point in Debate, as the other; and yet no understanding person will maintain that Epictetus his meaning in this place, is, That it is lawfull for a man to be his own Executioner, For, two or three lines before, he holds, That,Arr. l. 1. C. 9. When we are persecuted by Tyrants, We must have Patience, and wait Gods leasure, [...] &c. to deliver us from their Persecution. It is just, adds he, that we continue in the rank wherein God hath placed us. We must leave it to him to remove us out of it, when it shall please him. The time of our aboad will not be long. When a man hath once taken this resolution, there is no Tyrant but we may defy. This is the Constant opinion of Epictetus, [Page 38] which is clearly opposite to that, which Wolfius would impose upon him.
But to return to his Life. These were his true Sentiments; that admirable Modesty, that profound Wisedom; and, above all, that inflexible Integrity so remarkable in him, were the recommendations which gain'd him the Esteem and Friendship of the greatest Persons of his time.A. Cell. l. 17. c. 10 part l. 1. c. 8. There was an intimate Friendship between him and Favorinus, and Herod the Sophist, two men very Illustrious among the Ancients, and whose Lives are written by Philostratus. In Vit. Hadr. Spartian, as I have already observe'd, numbers him among the most familiar Friends of the Emperour Hadrtan. Them. O. rat. 12. Themistius, in his Oration to the Emperour sovinian, affirmes, that he received great honours from the two Antoninus's. And indeed,Mar. Anton. l. 17. Sect. 16. l. 11. S. 28. &c. Marcus Aurelius speaks very advantageously of him, in several places; so far as to parallel him with the Zeno's, Socrates's, and Crysippus's. In fine, he was in so great reputation,Ad Iudoct. that Lucian satyrizes on an Ignorant person, who had given three thousand [Page 39] Drachmes for Epictetus's earthen Lampe, out of a conceit he should become as eminent for Learning as he was, by the light of his Lampe.
His words were so efficacious, and men had such a respect and Veneration for what ever came from him, that none oppos'd it. One day Herod, A. Gell. Noct. Att. l. 1. c. 2. the Sophist, met with a young man who profess'd the Stoick, Philosopy, but had such an humour of talking and magnifying himself, as if all the Greeks and Latines had been ignorant persons in comparison of him. The Sophist having patiently given attention to all he thought fit to say, sent for the second Book of Epictetus's Discourses, collected by Arrian, whereof he caus'd a Chapter to be read, treating of great Talkers, and presumptious persons, The young man was so startled, and out of countenance at it, that he had not a word to say for himselfe. From this instance it may be conjectur'd, what esteeme Epictetus must be in.
Of all his Diciples, we know not of any considerable person but Arrian; and yet the making of this one Diciple [Page 40] is a sufficient argument of the greatness of the Master.Genebr. l. 3 Chron. This is the Arrian, who was afterwards Master to Antoninus Pius, and had the Title given him of young Xenophon, upon this account, that in imitation of that Philosopher, he had reduc'd to writing all he had heard his Master say, during his Life, and dispos'd it into a Volume, which he Entituled, The Discourses of Epictetus, or his Dissertations, whereof there are yet remaining four Books. He afterwards made a little Treatise, which he called Enchiridion, Simpl. in Pro [...]m. Enchir. which is an Abridgment of all the Moral Philosophy of Epictetus, which is yet extant, and indisputabl'y one of the most excellent Pieces of Antiquity.
But what I am extreamly astonish'd at;Lips. in [...]. ad Sancto. Phil. l. c 19. Epicteti scripta pa [...]a extaut Enchiridion [...]gregium, &c. is, that a person so highly learned as Lipsius, whose illuminated judgment sound its way into the greatest obscurities of the Stoick. Philosophy, and who made it his principal study, should imagine that Epictetus was the Author of that Enchiridion, and how he mist observing, that Simplicius expressly affirms at the very beginning of his Book, that the [Page 41] Enchiridion was compos'd by Arrian, In Prooem, Enchir. [...]. See his Preface on the Discourses of Epictetus. and that it was an extract of the noblest and most considerable Maximes of Epictetus's Philosophy. The Translator of Arrians Discourses into French, so well known by the Philarchus of Monsieur de Balzac, is guilty of the same Errour.
Arrian had also written another very large Book, of the Life and Death of Epictetus, which is clearly lost. Marcus Aurclius speaks of another Book,Mar. Ant. de is qua ad se. [...]. intituled, The Commentaries of Epictetus, which he had very exactly read over. But, in all probability, these Commentaries are no other than the Discourses of Epictetus, whereof I have already spoken. For Arrian, in the Preface he made before thosse Discourses, calls them also the Commentarie [...], of Epictetus. Arrian in Pras. ad Gell. [...], &c. I conceive the equivocation proceeded from the two publications made of that Book, during the life of Arrian, who possbly gave it different Titles.
I am also of opinion, that those Discourses were much larger than we now find them, and, it may be, that, instead of four, there were five or six Books of them. This is so far certain, that [Page 42] Gellius cites a passage of the fifth Book of Arrian's Discourses. And Stobaeus relates several passages of the same Author, now not extant elsewhere. It is possible also, that Arrian left out several things at the second publication which was made of his Book, and reduc'd the six Books he had made, to four. However it be, I cannot allow what is affirm'd by Suidas, Suid. in. Epict. that Epictetus writ much. For if we ever so little consult what hath been written by Arrian, or reflect on the Maximes maintain'd by him, we shall hardly be induc'd to any imagination of it.
There are also certain Answers, Altercat. Hadr. & Epict. which some pretend that he made to the Emperour Hadrian. But there needs only the reading of them to discover their being supposititious, and that they are falsely attributed to him. Wolsius put us sometime in hopes,In praef. ad Atlercat. Hadr. that we should see Epictetus's Letters, which were, as he was told, in the Library of Florence. But it is very likely, that he, who told him that News, was not well informed of the truth, and that we may long expect the publishing of them.
[Page 43] Of what Disease Epictetus died, or at what time, is not well known. True it is, that Suidas affirmes he died under the reign of Marcus Aurelius. But I much question the truth of it. Salmasius, who hath been very large as to this particular, brings several reasons to make it appear that Suidas was mistaken.
The first is, that the same Suidas affirms,Suid. in Epict. that Epictetus was a slave to Epaphroditus, who was Captain of the Life-Guard to Nero. Now, from the death of Nero to Marcus Aurelius's advancement to the Empire,Salm. in Not. ad Epic. & simpl. there are near ninety four years. Nay before Epictetus was in a condition to do Epaphroditus any service, and to come from Hierapolis to Rome, he must be of some Age. So that according to this computation he must have lived near a hundred and twenty years: which is not easily believ'd. And yet there may be somewhat in the conjecture, though not enough to make it convictive, for it is possible,Lips. in Manud. ad St. Phil. l. 1. c. 19. as Lipsius hath well observ'd, that he did not serve Epaphroditus, till after the death of Nero. Yet Lipsius may be answer'd, [Page 44] by alledging that Epaphroditus is here stiled Captain of Nero's Life Guard;Suid. in Epict. [...]. Ant. de his quae ad se. which argues that Nero was then living.
Salmasius's second reason is, that Marcus Aurelius numbers not. Epictetus among those whom he had heard. He only affirms, that he had seen his Commentaries, by the means of Junius Rusticus, who sent him them. This reason seems to me much weaker than the former. For, besides that Epictetus might at that time be retir'd to Nicopolis, he died haply at the beginning of Marcus Aurelius's Reign. And Suidas affirms only, that he came to the time of that Emperour. And so though Epictetus had lived till the beginning of his Reign, it is possible that Emperour might not see the Commentaries of Epictetus, till after his death.
The third reason alledged by Salmasius seems to me to be of no validity at all. He saies, that Epictetus's Lamp was sold in Lucian's time, and thence he infers, that Epictetus was then dead. But this does not prove any thing. For there are very high probabilities, if not certainty, that Lucian died not till [Page 45] after Marcus Aurclius. And so, that Lamp might have been sold in Lucian's time, though Epictetus liv'd to the time of that Emperour. Nay it is possible it was sold in the Life-time of Epictetus; and in that case, there would be no difficulty.
The fourth Reason is,A. Gell. l. 11. c. 19. Ita Salmas. resulit locum Gellii in Not. ad Simpl De Epict. autem Philosopho recention est memoria. Itae Gell. De Epict autem Philosopho, quod is quoq servus fuerit, recentior est memoria. That A. Gellius, who writ in the time of Antoninus Pius, or at the beginning of Marcus Aurelias's Reign, affirmes of Epictetus thus, The memory of Epictetus the Philosopher is yet fresh. The passage is not faithfully set down by Salmasius. For it is precisely said in Aulus Gellius, That Epictetus also was a slave, is of fresh Memory. That is, it was of fresh memory that Epictetus had been a Slave, and not simply that he had been.
To conclude, The last Reason brought by Salmasius, is, that Aulus Gellius speaks in another place, in these Terms, I have heard Favorinus say that Epictetus said &c. So that, since Favorinus died under the Emperour Hadrian, Salmasius, infers, that Epictetus could not have liv'd up to the time of Marcus Aurelius. This reason is not [Page 46] convictive, because Favorinus might inform Aulus Gellius, of what, Epictetus said, though Epictetus were not dead. Yet must we allow it some ground. For Aulus Gellius, who writ in the time of Antoninus Pius, the Predecessor of Marcus Aurelius, when he speaks of Epictetus, expresses himself in these Terms. Epictetus said. That venerable Old Man said, I have been inform'd by such a one, that Epictetus said. Which clearly argues that he was not then living. And what makes me the more inclinable to this opinion, is, that it is probable, that Arrian had not made any collection of the Discourses of Epictetus, till after the death of that Philosopher. And if so, it is impossible that what is affirmed by Suidas should be true, and that Epictetus liv'd up to the time of Marcus Aurelius. For in the time of Aulus Gellius; who, as hath been observed, writ under Antoninus Pius, these Discourses were already published, and generally known. True it is, that Arrian might have made that Book in the Life-time of Epictetus, but there is little probability, and it will not easily be presum'd, that the Discourses, [Page 47] and memorable things of a person yet living should be published.
There is yet another very considerable difficulty, which hath not been observed by any one. This is; that, from Nero's death, to the Edict set forth by Domitian, touching the Banishment of the Philosophers, there is very little above twenty years. For that Edict was published in the eighth year of his Reign, as is affirmed by Eusebius. Now if the conjecture of Lipsius be true, and that Epictetus did not serve Epophroditus, till after Neros death, it would follow, that at the time of that Edict, Epictetus could not be above eighteen or nineteen years of Age. Which cannot be granted, For then he had obtained his Liberty, and was even at that very time in great reputation; inasmuch as it is affirmed by Aulus Gellius; that, upon the qualification of a Philolsopher, he was forced to retire to Nicopolis. It must needs be allowed then, that he was at that time about thirty years of Age. But if he were of that Age, at the time of that Edict, it must necessarily follow, that [Page 48] he lived near a hundred and eight or nine years, to come up to the time of Marcus Aurelius. Which is not probable; since Lucian, who lived in that very time makes no mention of Epictetus, in his Dialogue Of Long-livers. True it is,Fuseb. in Chron. that Eusebius speaks also of a second Edict against the Philosophers, which was not published till the fifteenth year of Domitian's Reign. But, not to take notice, that he is the only person of all the Chronologers and Historians, who makes any mention of this second Edict, Scaliger precisely observes, that the Edict, whereof Aulus Gellius speaks, (which is the same we now discourse of) was the first which was publish'd in the eight year of Domitians Reign.
This reason seems to me so strong, that I should make no difficulty to affirm, that Suidas was mistaken, if I had not met with a passage of Themistius, Them. in Orat. ad Jovin. where he precisely saies, That the two Antoninus's rendred great honours to Epictetus. Yet might it be answer'd, that what is said is by an Orator, who observed not that strictness, which was requisite in a faithfull Historian. Or [Page 49] haply that Marcus Aurelius was a great honourer of Epictetus, in the time of Hadrian, and Antoninus Pius, and before he came to be Emperour. Or rather, that he did him those honours after his death. As indeed we see, by the Books he hath left us, that he had a particular Veneration for his Memory. In fine, This is not without some difficulty, and I should be loath to be absolutely decisive in the point. I therefore think it sufficient, that I have simply laid down the doubts of both sides. And yet, after a mature examination of these things, if I may presume to give my judgment, I am the rather inclin'd to comply with what is affirm'd by Salmasius, that Epictetus reach'd not the Reign of Marcus Aurelius. For besides that Suidas is an Author who hath not alwaies light on the truth, it was a most undeniable mistake in him, when he affirm'd that Epicletus had written much. So that it is possible he may also be mistaken in his computation of the time. Howere it be, yet this is certain, that Epictetus was regretted by all the illustrious [Page 50] Persons in his time, and that his memory will be precious to posterity. And this all I could meet with of his Life, which hitherto hath not been written in any Language, since that Life of Epictetus, done by Arrian, hath been lost.
| Years from the Foundation of Rome. | Years from Nero. | |
| 807 | 1 | |
| 808 | 2 | Nero. |
| 809 | 3 | |
| 810 | 4 | |
| 811 | 5 | |
| 812 | 6 | |
| 813 | 7 | |
| 814 | 8 | |
| 815 | 9 | |
| 816 | 10 | |
| 817 | 11 | |
| 818 | 12 | Epaphroditus. |
| 819 | 13 | Epictetus. |
| 820 | 14 | Galba. |
| 821 | 15 | Otho. Vitellius. |
| 822 | 16 | |
| 823 | 17 | Vespasian. |
| 824 | 18 | |
| 825 | 19 | |
| 826 | 20 | |
| 827 | 21 | |
| 828 | 22 | |
| 829 | 23 | |
| 830 | 24 | |
| 831 | 25 | Titus Vesp. |
| 832 | 26 | |
| 833 | 27 | |
| 834 | 28 | Domitian. |
| 835 | 29 | |
| 836 | 30 | |
| 837 | 31 | |
| 838 | 32 | |
| 839 | 33 | |
| 840 | 34 | Edict for the banishment of the Philosophers. |
| 841 | 35 | |
| 842 | 36 | |
| 843 | 37 | |
| 844 | 38 | |
| 845 | 39 | |
| 846 | 40 | |
| 847 | 41 | Nerva. |
| 848 | 42 | |
| 849 | 43 | |
| 850 | 44 | Trajan. |
| 851 | 45 | |
| 852 | 46 | |
| 853 | 47 | |
| 854 | 48 | |
| 855 | 49 | |
| 856 | 50 | |
| 857 | 51 | |
| 858 | 52 | |
| 859 | 53 | |
| 860 | 54 | |
| 861 | 55 | |
| 862 | 56 | |
| 863 | 57 | |
| 864 | 58 | |
| 865 | 59 | |
| 866 | 60 | |
| 867 | 61 | |
| 868 | 62 | |
| 869 | 63 | |
| 870 | 64 | Hadrian. |
| 871 | 65 | |
| 872 | 66 | |
| 873 | 67 | |
| 874 | 68 | |
| 875 | 69 | |
| 876 | 70 | |
| 877 | 71 | |
| 878 | 72 | |
| 879 | 73 | |
| 880 | 74 | |
| 881 | 75 | |
| 882 | 76 | |
| 883 | 77 | |
| 884 | 78 | |
| 885 | 79 | |
| 886 | 80 | |
| 887 | 81 | Favorinus's Death. |
| 888 | 82 | |
| 889 | 83 | Antoninus Pius. |
| 890 | 84 | |
| 891 | 85 | |
| 892 | 86 | |
| 893 | 87 | |
| 894 | 88 | |
| 895 | 89 | |
| 896 | 90 | |
| 897 | 91 | |
| 898 | 92 | |
| 899 | 93 | |
| 900 | 94 | |
| 901 | 95 | |
| 902 | 96 | Epictetus's Death. |
| 903 | 97 | |
| 904 | 98 | |
| 905 | 99 | |
| 906 | 100 | |
| 907 | 101 | |
| 908 | 102 | |
| 909 | 103 | Aulus Gellius. |
| 910 | 104 | |
| 911 | 105 | |
| 912 | 106 | |
| 913 | 107 | Marcus Aurelius. |
| 914 | 108 | |
| 915 | 109 | |
| 916 | 110 | |
| 917 | 111 | |
| 918 | 112 | |
| 919 | 113 | |
| 920 | 114 | |
| 921 | 115 | |
| 922 | 116 | |
| 923 | 117 | |
| 924 | 118 | |
| 925 | 119 | |
| 926 | 120 | |
| 927 | 121 | |
| 928 | 122 | |
| 929 | 123 | |
| 930 | 124 | |
| 931 | 125 | |
| 932 | 126 | Commodus. |
| 933 | 127 | Lucian's Death. |
THE PHILOSOPHY OF EPICTETUS.
THere are some things which have their dependance on us.Sect. 1. As Opinion, Inclination, Desire, Aversion; in a word, all our Operations. There are others also which have no dependence on us. As the Body, Wealth, Reputation, Soveraignty, and whatever comes not within the Sphear of our Action.
[Page 60] That which hath its dependance on us,Sect. 2. is, of its own Nature, Free, and cannot be obstructed, nor forbidden by any one. On the contrary, That which hath not its dependence on us, is weak, servile, easily obstructed, and subject to another.
Remember then,Sect. 3. that if you take to be Free, that which, of its own natures is Servile; and if you consider what is subject to another, as a thing proper to your self; Remember, I say, that you will meet with great obstructions, and that you will be disturbed in all your designes, that you will be expos'd to a thousand disquiets, and in fine, that you will charge your misfortunes upon the Gods and Men. But, on the contrary, if you are perswaded that that only belongs to you which really does so, and can consider, as alienated from you, that which in effect is so, assure your self, that nothing will be able to divert you from what you have proposed to your self, that you will not attempt any thing with a kind of violence to your self, that you will [Page 61] not blame or accuse any one, that no body will give you any Check, that you will have no enemies; and in fine, that you will never be subject to the least regret.
If you are desirous of goods so great as these are,Sect. 4. know, it is not sufficient,With Politan and Wolfius I put [...] out of the Text in this passage. for the attaining of them, that they be in some measure desired; but it is also requisite, that you be readily dispos'd to a renunciation of certain thing, and, for a time, to a deprivation of some others. For, if not sati [...]fy'd with that whereof you are possess'd, you are ambitious of advancement into Charges, or the acquisition of Wealth, remember, you will absolutely lose the assured means, whereby Liberty and Felicity are acquirable, and that haply, after all, you will be defeated of what you courted with so much earnestness.
When you meet with any displeasing occurrence,Sect. 5. accustom your self to this reflection, that it is not such as it seems to be, and that it is only a [Page 62] pure imagination. When you shall have made that reflection, examine what it may be, and make your advantage of the rules you have for that purpose. Consider whether it be any of those things which have their dependence on you. For otherwise if it have not any, be immediately satisfy'd, that it concerns you not.
Know,Sect. 6. that the End of Desire is the obtaining of what is desired, and that the End of Aversion is, that one fall not into that which he would eschew. And as he is Unfortunate who is frustrated of what he wishes; so he is miserable who falls into that which he would most a void. If therefore you have an aversion only for what hath its dependence on you, as for false Opinions, be assur'd, that you will never fall into that which you hate. But if you have an aversion for that which depends not on you, as for Diseases, Death, or Poverty, question not but you will become Miserable; since it is not in your power to avoid them, and that you will infallibly fall into them.
[Page 63] If you are desirous to be Happy,Sect. 7. never have any repugnance for that which hath not its dependence on you, but direct all your aversion against that which is obstructive to the nature of the things dependent on your Liberty. Moreover, make no sudden wishes of any thing with too much earnestness; For if you desire things not dependent on your self, it is impossible but you must be frustrated thereof; and if you desire those which have their dependance on your self, know, that you are not sufficiently taught what is necessary for the desiring of them out of a vertuous regard. If therefore you would do well, approach them so as that you be able to withdraw your self from them, when you shall think fit. But let all this be done with discretion and reservedness.
The true expedient to avoid being ever troubled,Sect. 8. is, to consider all the things that are for our pleasure, or for our advantage, or such as for which we have any affection, as they are in themselves. We must begin [Page 64] to examine even to the least important.I hear follow Simplicius, who instead of [...] puts [...]. For example, when you remove an earthen vessel, bethink your self that it is an earthen vessel, which you do remove, and that it may be easily broken. For having made this reflection, if it chances to break, you will not be troubled at it. In like manner, if you love your Son, or your Wife, reflect that the person you love is of humane race; for by that means, if they come to dye, you will not be surpriz'd at it.
Before you undertake any work,Sect. 9. examine of what kind it is. If you have resolved to go into a Bath, before you set forth, represent to your self all the insolences that are committed in those places. They there cast water at one; they force him out of his place; he is subject to affronts; he may lose his cloaths. Make no question but you would more safely execute what you undertake, if you say to your self; I will go into the Bath, but I will also keep to the course of Life, which I have propos'd to my self. Observe this Maxime in [Page 65] all your enterprises. For by that means, if any obstruction or disgrace happens to you, as you bath your self, it will be without disturbance to you, and you will presently say, I came not hither only to bath my self, but I came also with a resolution not to do any thing contrary to my setled course of life, which I should not observe, if I endured the impertinences committed hear with any kind of regret or dissatisfaction.
The disturbances which men are inSect. 10. proceed not from the things themselves; but only from the opinions they conceive of them. For example, to speak rightly of it, Death is not any Evil; since that if it were such it would have appear'd dreadful and unpleasing to Socrates, as well as to other men. No no, it is only the Opinion men have of death which renders it dreadful. When therefore we are any way disturb'd, or troubled, we have none to quarrel at, but our selves and our Opinions.
[Page 66] It is a great discovery of ignorance and a brutish disposition to be reproaching others with their miseries.Sect. 11. He begins to enter into the way of wisdome, who charges only himself with his own misfortune. But he is come to the perfection of wisdom, who neither chargeth himself nor others.
Never make any ostentation of the excellency which is in another.Sect. 12. If a Horse could say, that he is a beautifull Creature, it were supportable in his mouth. But when you make it your brag that you have an excellent well-shap'd Horse can you tell what you do? you boast of what belongs not to you. What is there then that is yours? The use of what falls under your sight.A Sentiment somewhat hard. And hence it comes, that if you look on things conformably to their nature, and make such judgments of them as you ought, then shall it be lawfull for you to make your brags thereof; inasmuch as your exultation is for a good, whereof you are effectually possess'd.
[Page 67] If you go to Sea, and the Ship comeSect. 13. to Land at some place, you are at liberty to go out of it, to take in fresh water; nay if you have a mind to gather of the Shells you meet with in your way, no body will hinder you. But it is still expected that your thoughts should be upon the Ship, and that you should be attentive to the masters call; for you must be ready to leave all, least upon your neglect, he might order you to be cast into the Vessel with your hands and feet bound like a beast. The same is to be said in the case of humane Life. If God is pleas'd to give you a Wife, or Children, it is permitted you to take them, and to have your enjoyments of them. But if it happen that God calls you, you must leave them without any further thoughts of them, and make hast to the Vessel. And if you are already well advanc'd in age, have a care you be not at any great distance from it, out of a fear you be not ready, when you shall be called.
[Page 68] Never desire that things should happen as you would have them; but endeavour to make your wishes compliant with the emergencies. By this means, what ever comes to pass will be conformable to your wishes.
Sickness is an impediment to the Body,Sect. 15. but not so to the Will. For example, when a man is Lame, it is an obstruction to his feet in going; but that hinders not his Will to do what it is inclin'd to, if it does not undertake any thing but what it is able to compass. Make the same consideration of all the things that happen, and you will find, that it is not you that are incommodated by them, and that it is alwaies some other.
In whatever shall happen to you,Sect. 16. be mindfull to consider, what means you have to secure your self against it. If, for example you see a beautiful Youth, or a fair Virgin, bethink your self, that you have Temperance, which is a powerful preservative against Beauty. If you are oblig'd [Page 69] to undertake something not to be overcome without much labour and hardship, have your recourse to Patience. If you have receiv'd any injury, arm your self with Constancy. For if you accustom your self alwaies to act after this manner, occurrent Objects will have no prevalence over you.
Never say that you have lost any thing,Sect. 17. but let it be your constant saying, that you have restor'd it. When your Son or your Wife dye, say not that you have lost them, but say rather that you have restor'd them to him who had bestow'd them on you. But when some part of your Inheritance is taken away from you, must it be said in like manner, that you have restor'd it? you think haply that you ought not to use that kind of expression, because he is some wicked person who hath depriv'd you of it? As if it concern'd you, by whose means your Land returnes to him who had given it you. As long therefore as you shall have it at your own disposal, look on it as if it were [Page 70] anothers, and part with it, as little troubled, as Travellors are when they leave the Innes where they had lodg'd.
If you are desirous to make any advancement in the study of Vertue,Sect. 18. wean your mind from those sorts of Imaginations. If I be not carefull of my affairs, I shall not have where with all to subsist. If I chastize not my Son, he will prove undutifull. Learn that it is better to dye of hunger, and preserve a greatness of courage, and tranquillity of mind to the last gaspe, than to live in abundance, with a Soul full of disturbance and torment. Learn, I say, that you ought rather to suffer your Son to become undutifull and wicked, than to become your self unhappy. In a word you must prefer the serenity of your own mind before all concerns. But to attain that, it is precedently requisite, that you make trial of your self even to things that are most inconsiderable. For example, if your Oyl be spilt, or your Wine stollen out of your Cellar, make this reflection and say in [Page 71] your self; At this rate must a Man purchase Tranquillity and Constancy. And indeed nothing is got without some pains, and it is necessary, that what we have should cost us something. Do the like when you call your Servant. Imagine, that he is not ready, and that if he were, he will not haply do any thing of what you desire of him. Howere it be, have a care that he has not the power to put you into any indignation, and to cause any disturbance in your mind, when he hath an humour to do it.
Never be troubled that you should pass for an extravagant person in the Apprehensions of the Multitude,Sect. 19. only upon their observance of your contempt of external things. Nor be ever desirous of being accounted a man of excellent endowments. If it unexpectedly happen, that people make any account of you, then most mistrust your self; in as much as it is extreamly hard to be attentive to what is external, and to stick close to a resolution correspondent to [Page 72] Nature, and the course of Life which you have propos'd to your self; and it must needs come to pass, that following the one you will be forc'd to relinquish the other.
If you desire that your Wife,Sect. 20. your Children, and your Friends should live alwaies, you are at a loss of judgment; for it is as much as to wish that what hath not any dependance on you, should be absolutely dependent on you, and that what is anothers should belong to you. In like manner, if you expect that your Son should commit no misdemeanour, you are no less ridiculous. For it is as much as to wish, that Vice should not be Vice. If therefore you would never be frustrated of your desires, desire only those things which are dependent on your self.
He is truly Master of all things,Sect. 21. in whose power it is to retain such as he will, and to reject such as are displeasing to him. Whoever then hath a design to be free after this manner, must accustom himself not to have [Page 73] any desire, nor any aversion for such things as are dependent on another: for if he act otherwise, he will certainly fall into Servitude.
Remember that your demeanour in Life must be such,Sect. 22. as if you were at a great Feast. If any Dish be presented to you, you may decently help your self what you think fit of it. If it be design'd only to pass by you, far be it from you to stop it, and to put your hand rashly into it. Expect patiently till it return to you again. Thus ought you to behave your self towards your Children, towards your Wife, towards the Magistrates, towards Riches, and towards all other things of that nature. For by this means, you will become worthy to be entertain'd at the Table of the Gods. But if you are so generous as to refuse even that which is presented to you, you will not only deserve admission to the table of the Gods, but you will be worthy also to participate of their power. And it was for this kind of demeanour that Diogenes and Heraclitus were reputed divine [Page 74] men, as indeed they were.
When you shall observe any one sighing,Sect. 23. either upon a remembrance that his son is gone abroad to travel, or that he hath lost what he was possest of, be not surpriz'd at the Object and imagine not the person to be really unhappy, for the loss of things not within his disposal. But make this distinction within your self, and presently say; It is not that Accident which afflicts the man; for there are others concern'd in the like that are not any way disturb'd thereat; it is the opinion which he hath conceiv'd thereof that torments him. Then use your utmost endeavours to undeceive him, and to recover him out of evil Opinion. Nay, if you think it convenient, you may pretend sadness, and a certain fellow-feeling of his affliction. But have a care that Grief do not effectually seize your heart, while you think only to personate it.
Remember your self,Sect. 24. that you are to act here the part which the Master [Page 75] of the Revels hath been pleas'd to assign you. If your part be short, be short in the acting of it; if it be long, be content to go through with it. If he have appointed you to do that of a poor Man, endeavour to acquit your self in the action as well and as naturally as you can. If fine, if he have impos'd upon you that of a Prince, or a Lame person, or a Tradesman, it is your concern, to act according to what is assign'd you, and hath been directed by another.
If it chance that you hear a Crow croaking,Sect. 25. be not the least troubled at it. But let this be your immediate reflection, I am not the person threatned by that Crow; it may haply be my Body, or the little Estate I am possess'd of, or my Reputation, or my Children, or my Wife, for as to my own part, there is not any thing but presages happiness to me; in regard that, of whatever shall happen, it depends only on my self to make all the advantage I can.
[Page 76] You may be invincible,Sect. 26. if you undertake not any engagement, but such as you are assur'd of the success thereof, and where the obtaining of the Victory depends only on your self.
If you observe any one advanc'd to Dignities,Sect. 27. or in favour and credit, be not surpriz'd at the outward appearance of it, and say not, that he is therefore happy. For since the true tranquillity of the mind consists in our wishes only of what depends on our selves, the lustre of Grandeurs ought not to raise any envy or jealousy in us. Nor should you entertain any ambition of being a Senator, a Consul, or an Emperour, the only business you are to mind, is Freedom. That ought to be the ultimate end of all your pretensions. Now to attain that, there is but one way, which is, to slight whatever depends not on us.
Remember also it is not either he who injuries you,Sect. 28. nor yet he who smites you that offends you, but it is [Page 77] the Opinion you have conceiv'd thereof. When therefore any one shall occasion your being angry, know, that not he, but your own Opinion hath incens'd you. Accordingly you ought to be very carefull that you be not transported by your passion; for if you delay it for ever so little a while, you will the more easily overcome it.
Let Death,Sect. 29. Banishment, and all those other things, which the greatest part of Men put into the number of Evils, be your daily Meditation; but let your thoughts be particularly fixt on Death. For by this means you will never have any mean and servile consideraton, nor ever wish any thing with passion.
If you have a design to perfect your self in the study of Philosophy,Sect. 30. prepare your self, before you undertake any thing, to endure the derision of all the World. It will be said to you, How are you become a Philosopher of a sudden? Whence came you by that severe aspect? Laugh [Page 78] at all that, conditionally that what is said be not true, and that you have not that gravity, wherewith you are reproached. Do you only demean your self so towards what seems best to you, that nothing be able to divert you from it, and continue constant thereto, as if God had appointed you to do so. If you persist in the same resolution, and prove constant in the same estate, you will become the object of their admiration who before derided you. If on the contrary you flag, and if once you give way to any change of resolution, all you have done will only occasion others to repeat their derisions of you.
Suffer not your mind to be distracted with imaginations of this kind,Sect. 31. that you will not be consider'd, and that you will not be respected, and honoured. For if it were an evil not to receive honour, the consequence would be, that it were in the power of another to make us unhappy. Which cannot be, in regard that the same reason which exempts [Page 79] us from being involv'd in Vice, by the act of another, exempts us also from being involv'd in evil, by the act of another. Is it a thing at our disposal to be advanc'd to soveraign dignities, or, to be invited to great Feasts, or in fine, to be possess'd of all the other goods not dependent on us? No, it is clearly out of our reach. How then can you say, that you shall live in Disesteem and Ignominy, if you have not the enjoyment of these kinds of things? How, I say, can you complain, that you shall not be respected, when you are to confine all your desires, and all your pretensions, within your self, and what depends on you, where you are allow'd to exalt your self as much as you please? You will haply reply, if I live so, I shall never be in a condition to serve my Friends. Ah! How are you mistaken! How do you imagine that this proposition is to be understood, a man is oblig'd to assist his Friends? Tis not thereby meant, that he is to supply them with Mony, or to make them Citizens of Rome, since that is not in our [Page 80] power, and that it is impossible for one to bestow that on another which he hath not himself. I foresee the answer you will make me, to wit, that a Man is to use all industry to raise himself to wealth and credit, that he may be able to relieve his Friends in their necessities. But if you can shew me a way whereby they may be attain'd without hazarding the loss of vertuous Inclination, Sincerity, and Generosity, I promise you that I will attempt alwaies to do it. If then you expect from me that I should hazard the loss of my own goods, to endeavour the acquisition of others for you, which are not true goods, consider whether you are not unjust and unreasonable. Reflect then, whether you ought not to make greater account of a sincere, vertuous, and faithfull Friend than of Mony? Do therefore all that lies in your power to preserve these qualities in me, and never press me to do any thing which may reduce me into a capacity of loosing them. You may yet possibly make this further reply, [Page 81] that by this means you will not be able to serve your Country. But what do you mean by those words? 'Tis true, you will not be able to adorn it with Triumphal Arches or publick Baths. They are not Smiths who furnish the City with Shoes, nor hath it Arms from Shoemakers. 'Tis well that every one act according to his profession? What do you imagine that you contribute nothing of advantage to your Country, when you supply it with an Inhabitant, who is a person of Worth and Integrity? Know, that you could not have done it a greater service. No more then henceforth of that Discourse. Say not that you are of no account in your City. It matters not what rank you are in, provided you mind the improvement of Honour and Fidelity in it. Do you imagine you will be advantageous to your Country, if you quit the purfuit of Vertues? Imagine to your self what benefit it can receive from you, when you shall become Impudent and Perfidious.
[Page 82] Take it not ill,Sect. 32. to see any one plac'd at Table above you, or saluted before you, or to find people inclin'd to follow his advice, rather than yours: for if the things are good, you ought to be glad they happen to him; if on the contrary they are bad, you should not have any regret at their not befalling your self. Besides, remember, that since you prosess not to do ought for the attainment of external things, it is no miracle if they happen not to you, and that others persons, who have us'd their utmost endeavours to attain them, are prefer'd before you. Nor indeed is it just, that he who stirs not out of his House should be of equall credit with him who spends most of his time in Visits, and is perpetually at the gates of Grandees. It is not, I say, reasonable, that he who cannot he induc'd to commend any one, should be equally consider'd with him, who bestows excessive praises on the most inconsiderable Actions. He certainly must be an unjust, and withall an insatiable person, who desires to have these sorts [Page 83] of goods for nothing, and without buying them, at the price they cost. Be it suppos'd, for example, that Lettices are to be sold, and that they are worth a half-peny, if any one gives that rate, he may have them. But if you will not give any thing for them, you shall go without them. Shall this render your condition worse than that of the other? By no means; for if he hath the Lettices, you have your Mony. The case is the same as to those we speak of. If you are not invited to a Feast, it argues you have not paid your Club. The Founder of the Feast sells it for flatteries, for compliance, and for submissions. If you are desirous to be admitted thereto, resolve to purchase it at the price set upon it. For to pretend to these things, without doing what is necessary for the obtaing of them, argues Covetuousness and want of Judgement. Do you imagine also, that, if you lose that Supper, you have nothing in requital? Assure your self you have somewhat that is much more excellent. You have not prais'd him [Page 84] whom you had no mind to praise. You have not born with his insolence, wherewith he treats such as come to his Table, this is the advantage you have made.
We may understand what Nature desires by the sentiment we have of the things which concern us not.Sect. 33. When our neighbours Servant break a Glass, we presently say, it is an ordinary accident. You should demean your self so, when your own is broken, and be as cold and indifferent, as you were when your neighbours was broken. Apply this also to greater matters. When your neighbours Wife or Child dies, no body saies there is any thing in it but what is natural. But when that accident happens to our selves, we break forth into lamentations and clamours; Ah! How unhappy am I, Ah! What a wretched person am I? And yet we should remember our selves, that we ought to be such upon this emergency as we are when the same thing happens to another.
[Page 85] The nature of Evil is, in the World,Sect. 34. as a Mark, which is set there to direct us into the right way, and not to put us out of it.
If any one should deliver up your Body to the first person he met,Sect. 35. that he might do what he pleas'd with it, I am confident you would not take it well, and that you would be displeas'd thereat. And in the mean time you are not asham'd to expose your Soul to the fantastick humour of all the World. For as soon as any reviling word is said to you, you are troubled, and transported with grief and indignation. Do not therefore undertake any thing, without considering beforehand what ought to precede, and what must be the consequence of such an enterprise; for if you act otherwise, it will come to pass, that haply your design will prove fortunate at the beginning, and that you will take a pleasure therein. But be assured, that you will afterwards be asham'd of it, and that, sooner or later, you will have occasion to repent you of it.
[Page 86] No doubt it would be a great satisfaction to you to gain the Victory at the Olympick Games.Sect. 36. I assure you, it should be as much my desire as yours. For when all's done, we must acknowledge that it is a very gallant thing. But if you have that design, it is requisite, that you consider what is precedent, and what is consequent to such an enterprise. When you shall have made that reflection, take notice of what you ought to observe. Accustom your self to keep within your own rank; Not to eat, but upon necessity; To abstain from all sorts of delicate, and picquant sawces; Never to drink out of humor or wantonness; Nay, to forbear the drinking of Wine, if you are not commanded to do it; To do your exercise at the appointed hours, in hot weather, in cold weather, not suffering any thing to divert you from it. In fine, You must resign up your self to the Master of the Exercises, as to a Physitian. And then you may enter the Lists. But you must also direct your apprehensions to all the things which may happen, one [Page 87] while, of hurting your Hands, and your Feet, and another of having your Mouth full of Dust, sometimes of being well Cudgel'd, and after all this struggling, you also run the hazard of getting the worst. Now if nothing of all this startle you, and that you still persist in your former design, then you may venture into the Ring. For if you demean your self otherwise, it will happen to you, as to those little Children, who now take up them to be Wrastlers, then Pipers, then Fencers, then Trumpetters, and then actors of Tragedies, undertaking all sorts of Professions, though they are incapable of exercising any. So you will be a Wrastler, a Gladiator, an Orator, a Philosopher, and of all this nothing. You will imitate, like an Ape, whatever you see done by others, and you will slightly quit one thing, to embrace another. Would you know the cause of it? 'Tis this, that you undertake all without recollection, and that you are inconsiderately inclin'd thereto, and that you comply only with the sudden sallies of your own [Page 88] fantastick humour. You behave your self like those who have an itching inclination to be Philosophers, when they hear some one say, Ah, how excellently was that said Socrates! Who could raise an argument to that height, and press it with so much vigour as he!
O man,Sect. 37. be who you will, if you are desirous to compass your designs, consider beforehand what you would do, and see, whether that which you undertake be conformable to your nature or not. If you are desirous to venture at the Exercises, as Wrastling or the like, consider whether your Arms are strong enough, and whether your Limbs and Reins are fit, and well-set for it; in regard that this man is naturally design'd to one thing, and that, to another. When you shall have taken a resolution to become a Philosopher, if you think to eat, and drink, and act the delicate person, as you did before, you will be extreamly mistaken. You must resolve to be vigilant, to be industrious, to forsake your Friends, [Page 89] to be slighted, sometimes by a Servant, to see all others more honoured, and in greater credit than you with eminent Persons, Magistrates, Judges, and in any affair whatsoever. Reflect then on all these difficulties, and consider whether you had not rather enjoy Tranquillity of Mind, Freedom, and Constancy. For if you make not this reflection, I must mind you of having a care, that you follow not the example of those little Children I spoke of before, and be one while a Philosopher, soon after a Receiver of the publick Taxes, then an Orator, and in fine a Lieutenant to Caesar. Believe me, all these employments will not fadge well together. It is requisite you take it into your consideration, that you are but one Man, and that it is necessary, you should be absolutely good, or absolutely bad. For, in a word, you must either only prosecute the cultivation of your Mind and Reason, or apply your self to the pursuit of external things, and absolutely addict your self thereto. For it is impossible for a man to do [Page 90] both together. That is to say, it is necessary that you either keep within the Sphear of a Philosopher, or come into the common class of the meaner sort of People.
All the Devoirs and Respects we render ought to be suitable to the quality of the persons who receive them.Sect. 38. If it be a Father, our Devoir obliges us to have a care of him, and to comply with him in all things. If he reviles you, if he smite you, all must be supported with patience. But, will you haply say, my Father is a wicked Man? What matters it? That excuse is not allowable. When Nature gave you a Father, she was not engag'd to give you a good one. In like manner, when your Brother injures you, be not over intentive to what he does to you, but consider the obligations of your own duty, and how you are to demean your self towards him, that so you may do nothing but what is conformable to Nature. Thus will it come to pass, that no Man will have the power to offend you, if you will it not, and [Page 91] if any do you an injury, it proceeds only from this, that you imagine it done to you. Make the same judgment of all the rest. You will come to understand what are the Devoirs of a Neighbour, of a Citizen, of a Military General, and of all others, if you accustom your self to consider what they are.
Know,Sect. 39. that the principal point of Religion consists in having right sentiments of the Gods. As for instance, to believe they really are, that they govern the World, with goodness and justice, that they are to be obey'd, that men ought to acquiess in what they do, and indisputably follow their Orders, as proceeding from a most excellent and most accomplish'd intelligence. For, thus principled, you will never charge them with ought, and you will not complain that they have deserted you. But this is not a thing to be attempted, if you do not slight whatever is not dependent on you, and if you do not place all Good and all Evil, in that which absolutely depends on you. [Page 92] For if you imagine, that any other thing is Good or Evil, it must needs come to pass, that you will be often frustrated of what you wish, that you will fall into what you endeavour to shun, and that you will blame and have an aversion for those, who have caus'd you that misfortune. Accordingly, as it is natural for all Animals to shun what is hurtful to them, and to have an aversion for all such as are able to do them any mischief; So have they the same propension, to embrace what is beneficial to them, and to cherish all those who can do them any good. So that it is impossible, that a person who believes he hath receiv'd any damage, should admit of a joynt-exultation with the other, who hath done it him, nor that the displeasure he hath receiv'd should give him any joy. Thence it comes that the Son sometimes reviles his Father, because he gives him not that which hath the denomination of Good amongst Men. And this also was the occasion of the War between Etcocles and Polynices; because their imagination was fixt on [Page 93] this, that Soveraignity was a Good. Thence it comes also, that the Husband-man, the Pilot, the Merchant, and those who loose their Wives, or their Children, speak injuriously of the Gods. Odinarily Piety and Profit meet together. From that reason does it proceed, that he who is careful not to wish and shun any thing, but what he ought to shun, or wish, makes it his study at the same time to be a Pious and a Just man. Besides every Man is oblig'd to make his Oblations and Sacrifices according to the custom of the Country where he lives, with much Modesty, avoiding avarice and prodigality, and doing it also with all the purity, and all the diligence requisite thereto.
When you go to a Foreteller of things to come,Sect. 40. no doubt, but you are ignorant of what is to happen. For it is, to be inform'd by him, that you consult him. But, to know whether that which shall happen will be good or bad, you have no need of the Foreteller, because you know [Page 94] it already, if you are a Philosopher. For if it be not somethìng dependent on your self, as it must necessarily be, since you are not ignorant of the success of it, you may confidently affirm, that it is neither good nor bad. When therefore you go to consult the Fortune-teller, be not prepossess'd with either Desire or Aversion; otherwise you will never approach him without trembling. Hold it for a Maxime, that every Event is indifferent, that it can never give any obstruction to what you had purposed to do, and, whatever it may be, that it is always in your power to apply it to a good use. Approach the Gods therefore with a resolute and assured mind, and look on them as such as are able to give you good counsels. When they have return'd you any answer, follow it exactly. Consider who they are whom you have consulted, and that you cannot forbear obeying them without a contempt of their power and incurring their displeasure. The things, about which we are to consult the Oracle, are those, as Socrates affirm'd, [Page 95] the whole consideration whereof is attributed purely to hazard, and which cannot be foreseen, either by Reason, or any other Art whatsoever. So that when the question is concerning the defence of your Country, or of your Friend, there is no necessity of going to the South-sayer; inasmuch as if the South-sayer tell you, that the entrails of the Victime presage ill success, it is an infallible sign, either that you will dye, or that you will be crippled, or that you will be banish'd, which might haply divert you from the design you were engag'd in. In the mean time Reason advises, that you should relieve your Friend and Country, even with the hazard of your Life. Make your applications then to a greater Oracle. Go to the Pythian Priest, who drove out of the Temple a Man, who sometime before had wav'd relieving one of his Friends, then ready to be murther'd.
It is requisite that you prescribe to your self a certain course of Life,Sect. 41. and a Law, to be inviolably observ'd by [Page 96] you, wherever you may be; whether your conversation be amongst Men, or that you are privately retir'd from all company.
Keep silence,Sect. 42. as much as you can. Never speak any thing but what is absolutely necessary, and to do that, spend as few words as you can. When any occasion of speaking shall present it self, amuse not your self in discoursing either of the Gladiators, or the Circean Exercises, or of the Olympick Games, or of eating, or of drinking, or of any of all those impertinencies, which are the Subjects of most peoples Discourses. But above all things, be careful, in your Conversation, to avoid both Praise and Dispraise, and making Comparisons between any.
When you are amongst your Friends,Sect. 43. if their communication be of any thing which is not decent, use all the endeavours you can to bring them to a change of Discourse; and if you are amongst persons unacquainted with you, speak not a word.
[Page 97] As to Laughter,Sect. 44. let not yours be either too long, or too frequent, or too lould. Never swear, if you can possibly avoid it, and if you are forc'd thereto; do beforehand all that lies in your power, to be dispens'd from it.
Avoid the great Treatments of the People.Sect. 45. If you are accidentally engag'd to be at any of them, make immediately a reflection on your self, and be vigilant and circumspect over your Actions, least you insensibly participate of the demeanour of the People. For you are to know, that it is impossible, when your Companion is defiled, but that you must be defiled also, if you rub against him, though you were pure and clean before.
Of all accommodations relating to the Body,Sect. 46. as Meat, Drink, Cloathing, Houses, Servants, take only so much as necessity requires, and the Mind stand; in need of, in order to its well-being, and reject whatever contributes to Luxury and Delicacy.
[Page 98] Endeavour all you can to abstain from the pleasure of Women till you are Married.Sect. 47. And when you have got one, use her honourably, and as the Law prescribes. But though you come into that course of Life, think not you have any cause to make any ostentation of it, and to reprehend those who live otherwise.
If it be told you,Sect. 48. that some body hath spoken evil of you, amuse not your self to refute what he hath said; only make answer, that he knows not all your vices, and that he would have said much more, if he had been acquainted therewith.
There is no necessity of frequenting Theaters.Sect. 49. But when occasion requires your going thither, let your demeanour there be such, as may discover you have no design to please any but your self: That is, that you wish things may be done as they are, and that he should gain the Victory who really deserves it. For by that means all will fall out as you would have it, and you will not be mov'd [Page 99] at any occurrence. Above all things, refrain from the clamours, satisfactions, and surprises of the People. When you are come away thence, amuse not your self in discoursing of what had pass'd there. Of that there is no advantage, nor does it any way contribute to your improvement. If you do otherwise, you will make it appear that you were an admirer of the Show, and that you are fallen into the same passions, which are observable in the meaner sort of People.
Frequent not the Lectures of Poets and Orators.Sect. 50. When your presence is desired at any of them, do all you can, to be exempted. But when you are there, be sure to demean your self with a decent Gravity. Let there be a certain stayedness and constancy in your actions. And above all, be it your care, to avoid being importunate or troublesome to any one.
When you shall have ought to do with a Person of Quality,Sect. 51. bethink [Page 100] your self, before you undertaken any thing, what Socrates or Zeno would have done, upon the like occasion. If you observe that rule, question not but what you shall do will be rational.
When you are to go to speak with some great Lord,Sect. 52. imagine to your self, that you will not meet with him at home, or that he will not be spoken withall, or that the doors will not be open'd to you, or that he will slight you. But if, notwithstanding all this, there be a necessity of your going to him, it is consequently requisite, that your patiently endure whatever will happen, that you murmure not in your selfe, and, in fine, that you say not, This man hath the carriage of a great Lord. This is a popular kind of expression, and fit only for Persons minding only external things.
When you are in Company,Sect. 53. let not your discourse run upon your own commendable Actions, nor the hazards you have been engaged in [Page 101] You are not to imagine, that others should take a pleasure, in hearing you talk, equal to the satisfaction you conceive in speaking to them.
Never make it your business to find others occasion of Laughter.Sect. 54. For besides that it is the right way of falling into popular behaviour, it abates much of the esteeme and respect which might otherwise be had for you.
It is dangerous discoursing of things that are not decent.Sect. 55. When therefore any thing of that kind is advanced in your presence, you ought, if you think it convenient and have the opportunity, to reprove the raiser of such a discourse, or at least assure him by your silence or the blushing of your countenance, that you take no pleasure in any communication of that nature.
If you conceive the Idaea of some pleasure,Sect. 56. it is expected you should, upon that emergency, retaine the same moderation which you express [Page 102] in other things. Let it be your first care, that you be not carried away with that Idaea. Examine it in your self, and take the leisure to make your reflections on it. Then consider the difference there is between the time, during which you have the satisfaction of that pleasure, and that wherein, after you satisfaction therein, you will repent you of it, and find fault with your self for so doing. Oppose also thereto, the satisfaction it will be to you, if you abstain from it. But though you might enjoy these sorts of pleasure without any selfereproach, yet should you not absolutely resigne your self thereto, nor suffer your self to be overcome by the caresses, the charms, and insinuations, which are the ordinary attendants of Voluptuousness. Bethink your self that the internal joy which you will receive upon the gaining of such a Victory, is some what that is much more excellent than any thing of that kind.
When you are once fully resolved to do any thing,Sect. 57. fear not to be seen in it, even though the People were [Page 103] ready to make the worst constructions of it. For if what you do be a Good, you are to defie all apprehensions, since you cannot be reprov'd without injustice. But, on the contrary, if it be an Evil, you ought not onely to avoyd begin seen, but you are also obliged to desist from your enrerprise.
As these words, It is day, It is nigh [...], Sect. 58. are most certain and true, if you divide them by the disjunctive particle As, it is day, or it is night. Or; and are absolutely false, if you knit them together with the conjunctive particleit is day, and it is night. This place is a Rock, from which I have got off as well as I could. I must confess, this Comparison is some what strange; but it is to be lmputed to Epictetus. And: So when you are at a Feast, and that you take a pleasure in the best Messes that are brought to the Table, if you particularly regard your body, you do somewhat that is most excellent for your body. If you also consider the community and equality, which ought to be observed amongst the Guests, you do a very undecent action. When therefore any one invites you to Dinner, you ought not onely to regard your appetite, and what you love best, but you are further obliged, to express a certain [Page 104] deference and respect towards the preson by whom you are treated.
If you undertake any Employment which is above your abilities,Sect. 59. besides the hazard of your coming off with discredit, it will occasion your negligence of some other, whereof you might have acquitted you selfe perfectly well.
When you walk, you are careful enough to avoyd treading on the which may happen to be in your way.Sect. 60. So ought you, in Life, to be no lesse cautious, that the superiour part of your soul be not injur'd by any bruitish Passions, or false Opinions. For you will with much greater facility compass your designs, if you observe this Maxime in whatever you undertake.
The body ought to be the standard of Wealth, as the Foot is the measure of the Shooe.Sect. 61. Observe this rule well, and you will never be at any great distance from Mediocrity, nor the limits prescrib'd thereby. If you [Page 105] neglect it, you will unquestionably tumble down the precipice. For as, when you have once had the curiosity of getting Shoos after the newest fashion, and such as exceed the measure of your Feet, you will afterwards be of an humour to have them gilt, and then to have them of Purple, or embroider'd, with much cost and workmanship: So in the business of wealth, when you have once exceeded the limits of Mediocrity, there is then no stinting of you, but you are insensibly transported into all manner of Luxury and Excess.
As soon as young Mayds are arrived to the age of fourteen years,Sect. 62. Men begin to call them their Mistresses. This raising an apprehension in them, that Nature hath disposed them into the World for them, and that it must be their endeavour to humour them, they thereupon make it their maine business to dress and trick up themselves and place all their expectations in their ornaments. It is therefore requisite they should be brought to apprehend, that these honours and [Page 106] civilities are rendred them, onely upon the account of their Modesty, Discretion, and respectful Carriage.
To be over much addicted to Corporeal things is ever the argument of a mean Soul.Sect. 63. As for instance, to be assiduous in Exercises, to drink and eat much, to be excessively addicted to Women, and to spend too much time in the other functions of the body. All this is to be done as it were in haste, and without any great attention; all our earnest cares were are to reserve for the Mind.
When any one injures you by word or deed,Sect. 64. remember, that he would not have done so, if he had not had an imagination that he ought to have done it. Do you think he could quit his own sentiment to follow yours? If he does not make a sound judgment of things, and be accordingly mistaken, he suffers the trouble and prejudice arising thereby. When a man judges that a true Thing is false, because it is obscure and immers'd in [Page 107] darkness, this judgment injures not the truth. He who makes such a judgment injures none but himself. If you follow this Maxime, when any one shall revile you, you will patiently endure it; For you will always say in your selfe, this Man thinks that what he does it well done.
Every thing hath two faces, whereof one is supportable,Sect. 65. the other in supportable. For example, when your Brother injures, look not on him as he is injurious to you. For what he does, if it be so taken, cannot be indured. Consider him rather as he is your Brother, with whom you have had a joynt-education. And so you will take it after another manner, which may render his action supportable.
These kinds of Propositions are not consequent one to the other;Sect. 66. I am wealthier that you are, therefore, I am the honester man. I am more eloquent than you are, therefore I am the more virtuous man. But these Arguments are good: I am wealthier than [Page 108] you are, therefore my wealth is more considerable than yours. I am more eloquent than you are, therefore my way of speaking is more excellent than yours. So that this should give you very little trouble, since eloquence and wealth ought not to be the object of your care.
If you meet with any one in the Bath,Sect. 67. who hath soon done washing himselfe, say not that he washes not himselfe well, but say that he makes much hast to wash himselfe. In like manner, if any one drink much, say not that he does ill in drinking at that rate, but say simply, that he drinks much. For, how came you to understand that he did ill, that you should pass such a Judgment of him? If you are thus reserv'd in your sentiments you shall penetrate into the thoughts of another, and your thoughts shall be conformable to those of others.
What place or company soever you are in,Sect. 68. never say that you are a Philosopher, and amuse not your selfe in declaring before Ignorant [Page 109] Persons what Maximes you follow. Do you only performe what they enjoyne you. When a man is at a Feast, it is not seasonable to talk of the Manner of eating decently. He must eat decently without speaking of it. Socrates was a person, who was never guilty of any Ostentation. Nor ever was there any person that supported it from others with so much constancy. When some out of meer contempt of him and his doctrine, came and intreated him to conduct them to some other Philosophers, and to give them his recommendation to them; so far was he from giving them any repulse, that, with much civility, he went along with them to those other Philosophers. So little was he troubled, that the Doctrine of others should be prefer'd before his own. If it happen then that any one speak of some Axiome of Philosophy before ignorant persons, be you silent as long as you can, in regard it is somewhat to he fear'd, that you may cast up what you have not yet well digested. If any one reproach you with Ignorance, and you are not any way mov'd [Page 110] at it, know that you have already attain'd some part of what your precepts enjoyn you. Sheep do not vomit up the Food or Grass they have eaten, but, in requital, are thereby fatted up, and supply their Owners with Milk and Wooll. In like manner ought not you to amuse your self in entertaining ignorant persons with your Precepts, because it is a sign you have not well digested them. They are rather to be instructed by your Actions.
If you have learnt to satisfie your body with little,Sect. 69. forbear making any ostentation of it. If you have brought your selfe to a custome of drinking onely water,I here follow the sense of Simplicius, yet doubt whether it be that of Epictetus. I think Epictetus would only say, That a man should not amuse himselfe to go and imbrace Statues in the midst of W [...]nter, to be admired by the People, as Diogenis the Cynick did, as Laertius affirms. think not that you are to boast of it. And if you would sometimes exercise your selfe in a thing requiring much pains and labour, do it privately, and be not desirous that others should see you, in imitation of those, who being persecuted by persons of authority, run and imbrace Statues, [Page 111] to get the people together, and in that posture cry out, that they have suffered violence. Whoever seeks glory by such means seeks onely the outside of it, and looses the fruit both of Patience and Frugality; inasmuch as he places the end of these excellent vertues in the opinion of the multitude. Certainly, all Affectation in this particular is frivolous and of no advantage. If you would accustome your selfe to Patience, take fair water into your mouth, when you are extreamly thirsty, and having spurted it out immediately, without swallowing so much as one drop, tell not any body of it.
It argues a meanness of spirit and ignorance in any man,Sect. 70. never to expect Good or Evill from himself; but to expect is always from some thing not dependent on him. On the contrary, it is the characteristick of a Philosopher, not to expect his Good or Evil, but from himself.
The signs whereby it may be known whether a man makes any proficiencySect. 71. [Page 112] in study and vertue, are these, Not to reprove, not to commend, not to blame, and not to accuse any one, not to boast of what he is, or what he knows; to be his owne accuser, when he is hindred or forbidden to do something, to laugh in his sleeve at those persons who commend him; not to be angry when any find fault with him; but to imitate those, who having not perfectly recover'd their health, walk gently for fear of stirring the humours; to have an absolute power over his desires; not to have any aversion but for what is repugnant to the nature of those things which depend on him; not to wish any thing passionately; not to be concern'd whether he be accounted an Ignorant or a Knowing person; in fine, to be distrustful of himselfe, as of a domestick Enemy, whose ambushes he is always afraid of.
When any one makes it his brag,Sect. 72. that he can explicate the Books of Chrysippus, let this be your reflection, that it Chrysippus had not written obscurely, this other person had had nothing [Page 113] to brag of. Yet is not this that which I seek after, my designe is to study Nature, and to follow Her. When I am told then, that Chrysippus is her interpreter, my recourse is to him, and if I understand him not, I seek out some other body that can explicate him to me. Hitherto have I not done anything that is excellent or commendable. For, when I shall have met with any one that is able to explicate that Philosopher to me; yet the main thing is yet unpress'd, which is, the putting of his Precepts into practice. If I make no further progress than to admire the explication of Chrysippus, all amounts only to this, that where I was a Philosopher before, I am now become a Grammarian. All the difference is, that instead of Homer, I explicate Chrysippus. And thence it must come, that I am much more asham'd I cannot do actions suitable to his Precepts, then I am at my not understanding of him.
OBSERVE what we have deliver'd as inviolable Lawes,Sect. 73. which you cannot [Page 114] not trangress without impiety and trouble not your selfe, concerning all that might have been said; since that depends not on you.
How long will you defferre applying your self to such excellent things,Sect. 74. and putting in practice such important instructions? When will you give over violating the Lawes of right reason? you have heard the Precepts which you ought to embrace, and I am inclin'd to believe, that you have already embraced them; but give others some assurance of it. What other Master do you yet expect, till whose coming you deferre your reformation? Bethink your selfe, that your youth is past, and that you are come to the age of a man. If you neglect these Precepts, and if you make them not your Directories of your Manners, you will put it off from day to day, and from time to time make additional and reiterated resolutions, and so your life will slide away so insensibly as that it will not be perceivable, whether you have made any progress in the study [Page 115] of Vertue or not. In fine, your life and your death will not be distinguishable from that of the meanest person among the Populace. Now therefore, without any further delay, embrace the life of a man aiming at proficiency and perfection. Look upon whatever seems best to you, as an intrangressible Law. If any thing laborious, if any thing delightful, if any thing glorious, if any thing disgraseful presents it selfe, remember it is time to enter the lists in order to an engagement, that the Olimpick Exercises are come, and that there is no thinking of any retreat. Bethink your selfe, that your Establishment is concern'd in either the loosing or gaining of the Victory. By this meanes was it that Socrates came to that point of Wisdome which was justly attributed to him, by presenting himself to all occasions, and not harkning to any advice but that of Reason. For your part then who are not yet a Socrates, you ought to live as a man desirous of becoming as wise as Socrates.
[Page 116] The chiefest and most necessary part of Philosophy is that which treats of the use of the Precepts,Sect. 75. for example, Not to lye. The second, that which treats of Demonstration; for example, Of the reason why men ought not to lye. And the third is that which confirmes and examines the two other parts; for example, it shews, why such a thing is Demonstration. It teaches also, what Demonstration. is, what, Consequence, Dispute, Verity, Falsity, and all the rest. The third part is necessary for the second, and the second is so for the First. But the First, as I have already said, is the most necessary of all, and therefore that is the part whereunto a man is particularly to apply himselfe. And yet our course is quite otherwise. We only stick to the third part, we spend all our Study and Time therein, and we absolutely neglect the First. Thence it comes that we fall short, when we are to prove by sound Demonstrations, that men ought not to lie; and yet we cannot forbeare lying dayly and hourely.
[Page 117] At the beginning of all your enterprises have these words always in your mouth?Sect. 76.
You will sometimes also have occasion to say these words.Sect. 77.
But, above all, be mindful of these excellent and admirable words,Sect. 78. spoken by Socrates to his Friend Crito, during his imprisonment.
THE TABLET OF CEBES OR, THE EMBLEME OF HUMANE LIFE.
ADVERTISEMENT.
TO This little Abbridgment of the Philosophy of Epictetus, I have added the Tablet, or Embleme of Humane Life, attributed to Cebes, in regard they are two Master-pieces of Antiquity, which custome hath rendred in a manner inseparable. This latter is an excellent draught of Humane Life, done by one of the most expert Masters that ever were. This Philosopher liv'd four hundred and sixty years, or thereabouts before the Birth of our Saviour. He was born [Page] at Thebes, in Beotia, and the Disciple of Socrates. Diogenes Laertius affirms, that he writ three Dialogues, two whereof are lost. So that we have remaining but only this, which he entituled the Tablet or Representation of Humane Life. Yet are there some Criticks, as Wolfius, who affirm it is not his, because there is mention made in it of Plato, who liv'd at the same time. But this conjecture is groundless, inasmuch as it would follow by the same reason, that Plato must not have made the Dialogue of the Immortality of the Soul, since mention is made [Page] there of Cebes. Howere it be, thus far we are certain, that this is a most excellent and most ancient Piece. For Tertullian observes, that Tertullian the Lawyer his Kinsman, publish'd an explication of it. The general reputation it hath continu'd in, for the space of twenty Ages, that it hath been in the World, hath been so extraordinary, that it hath been translated into most Languages. It hath been my fortune to have met with fifteen different Versions in the Latine tongue. Velsius, Odaxius, Wolfius and Caselius, have taken most pains about this Work, [Page] but particularly Velsius. For he hath writ a large Commentary upon this Tablet, containing in a manner all the Moral Philosophy of the Platonists. Mascardi rendred it into the Italian, and Salmasius hath some time since given us an ancient Arabian Paraphrase of it, and a Latine Version of John Elichman, one of the most knowing Persons of his Age in the Oriental Tongues. But the Author of that Paraphrase hath committed a strange fault, and such as I think considerable enough not to be omitted here. He imagin'd, that the Ancient man, who makes [Page] an explication of this Tablet or Representation, was called Hercules; upon no other ground, than that Cebes, cries out in some places, O Hercules; which is only an exclamation ordinary amongst the Greeks and Latines, when they were surpriz'd at any thing. Nothing more common in our Books.
For the better direction of the Reader, and greater ease of his Memory, there is at the end of this little Book, a piece of Sculpture, exhibiting the Embleme it self, and a short Explication, by way of Figures, [Page] in the Cut, answerable to others in the Leaf next adjoyning thereto, that the Description of it might be the more familiar.
- 1 THE Gate of the Inclosure of Humane Life.
- 2 Genius.
- 3 Imposture.
- 4 Opinions, Appetites and Pleasures.
- 5 Fortune.
- 6 The Inconsiderate.
- 7 Incontinence, Luxury, Rapine, and Flattery.
- 8 Laboriousness.
- 9 Sadness.
- 10 Misery.
- 11 Mourning.
- 12 Rage.
- 13 The House of Misfortune.
- 14 Repentance.
- 15 True Opinion.
- 16 False Opinion.
- 17 False Doctrine.
- 18 Poets, Orators, Geometritians, &c.
- 19 Incontinence, Luxury, and Opinion.
- 20 The way to true Doctrine.
- 21 Continence and Patience.
- 22 True Doctrine.
- 23 Truth and Persuasion.
- 24 Science and the Vertues.
- 25 Felicity.
- 26 The first pleasure of the Wise Man.
- 27 The Cowardly, who have lost courage
CEBES'S TABLET, OR, THE EMBLEME OF HUMANE LIFE.
AS we were walking in the Temple of Saturn, and viewing the several Presents which had been offer'd there, among other things, we took particular notice, at the entrance of it, of a certain Draught, or Picture, very remarkable, [Page 130] as well for the Manner of it, as the Subject. We could not imagine what it might be, nor of what Antiquity. For though what was represented therein had in some measure the resemblance of a City, or a Camp, yet was it not indeed either of the two. It was a great Enclosure, within which there were two other Enclosures, whereof one was larger than the other. Near the Gate leading into the first, there were several Persons drawn, and within it might be observ'd an assembly of Women. But at the entrance might be seen an ancient Man standing, drawn in the posture of one, who seem'd to have some directions to give those who entred into the Enclosure.
After we had a long time taken a prospect of that Emblematical Representation, and were at a loss, what to think of it, there happen'd to be standing by us a very ancient Man, whose curiosity had engag'd him upon the Survey of that Piece, as ours had us. This good Man had [Page 131] well observ'd all our Actions, and thereupon address'd himself to us in this Discourse.
It is no wonder, my Friends, if you find it so hard a matter to guess at the explication of that Picture. There are few persons, even of this Country, who know the meaning of it. This Present was not made by any of the Inhabitants of this City A stranger, came heretofore into this Country, a person no less recommendable for the excellency of his Apprehension, than for his deep Wisdome. That man, in all his words and in all his actions imitated the course of life of Pythagoras and Parmenides. He it was who dedicated this Temple, and that Emblematical Picture to Saturn.
I ask'd him, whether he had any acquaintance with that Person. Yea, said he, I have been an admirer of him a long time. For though he were but a young Man, yet could he discourse of all things very pertinently. I have heard him oftentimes [Page 132] discoursing upon the subject of this Picture. I intreat you, as you love the immortal Gods, Cry'd I, to give us an explication of it, if your convenience will permit it. You will infinitely oblige us, for we are extreamly desirous to know what it signifies. With all my heart said he. But it is necessary, that I give you an Advertisement before-hand, of the danger whereto you expose your selves. For if, when I shall have related these things to you, you perfectly comprehend them, you will become Wise and Happy; if not, you will be ignorant and stupid, and you will lead a wicked and a wretched Life. This Embleme hath some correspondence with that which was proposed byA Sorceriss who had the face of a young Maid, and in the rest of her body resembled a Lyon. Sphinx; whoever could not explicate what she said was by her put to death: On the contrary, she sav'd his life, who found out the explication of it. The same thing is to be affirm'd of this Picture. For Extravagance is like a Sphinx among Men, obscurely proposing what is good, bad, and indifferent. If any one be not able [Page 133] to discern them, she kills him not immediately at a blow, as the Sphinx did; but she treats him with greater cruelty. For she puts him to death by degrees, as those who are put upon the Rack. In like manner, if any one attains the knowledg of these things, besides his clearing himself from that misfortune, Extravagance vanishes, and he is perfectly happy all the rest of his days. I conjure you therefore, said he, by the Love you bear your selves, to give your greatest attention to what I am going to relate to you. Just Gods! cry'd I, what impatience have you rais'd in us, to be inform'd of these things, if they are such as you represent them! Make no question of it, replies he. I intreat you then, said I to him, to deliver us out of this impatience, and to be assur'd, that we too much fear the danger wherewith you threaten us, and that we have also too high an esteem for so noble a reward, to suffer the least of your words to escape our attention.
[Page 134] Having thereupon taken a little walking-stick in his hand, and directing it to the Embleme, do you see, said he, that large Enclosure? Yes, we do see it, said We.
It is necessary, said he, that you first know, that that Place is called Life, and that the persons whom you see standing there neer the Gate, are such as are to enter into it. As to the Old Man, whom you see rais'd above all the others, holding a Paper in one hand, and making a sign with the other, he is called Genius. He gives directions to those who enter, what they ought to do, when they shall come into Life, and shews them the Way they are to take, in order to their happy being therein. I pray tell me, said I, where is that Way, and what is to be done to come into it. Do you not perceive, said he, that, towards the Gate, through which all those persons pass, there is a Throne, on which there sits a Woman, who is painted and seems to have many attractions to [Page 135] perswade? What you say is true, said I; she hath also a Cup in her hand. How do you call her?
She is called Imposture, reply'd he, because she generally deceives all Men. What is her employment? It is, reply'd he, to present all those who enter into Life with a certain Drink, whereby she inebriates them With Errour and Ignorance.
What happens afterwards? As soon as they have taken of that Drink, they enter into Life, said he.
Can none be exempted from taking of it? None. Only some drink more of it, others, less. Do you not see further, that, within the Gate, added the Old Man, there are certain Women, who seem to be highly engag'd in a mad debauch? If you observe them well, you will find they are in postures much different one from another. Those are Opinions, Concupiscences, and Voluptuousness. [Page 136] Now when those Persons of whom I have spoken, come to enter into Life, those Women are transported with joy, they embrace them with the greatest kindness imaginable, and prevail so far as to draw them to them. And whether do they conduct them? They conduct Some to the Port of safety, and others, to Precipices. Which Fate attends them, because they were poison'd by Imposture.
That is a very strange Drink that you tell us of, reply'd I. That is not all, added he. For though they promise all, that they will conduct them to happy Life, and furnish them with the means of attaining it, yet many suffer themselves to be missed out of the right way, and inconsiderately run of all sides, by reason of the Errour and Ignorance, they have taken, at their entrance into Life,
Inform me, I pray, who is that Woman exalted upon a Ball? she seems to be blind, and distracted. [Page 137] You are in the right, reply'd he. Her name is Fortune, she is not only blind, but she is also deaf, and mad. She runs up and down, takes away from one, gives to another, And it will not be long after she hath bestow'd something on this Man, ere she gets it away again, and disposes it into other hands. Whatever she does discovers her temerity and inconstancy. Accordingly, her humour is extreamly well represented to us by the posture she is in. For if she be plac'd upon a Ball, it is to shew, that there is not any assurance in the presents she makes us, and that there needs but a small matter to ruine him, who puts any confidence in her.
Those whom you see standing by her, and endeavouring to catch what she casts away, are called the Inconsiderate. Why, said I, are they so different one from another? some of them, seem to be transported with gladness, and others, to be in a dreadful despair?
[Page 138] Those, said he, whom you see so jocund, are the Persons, who have received some favour from Fortune, and thence it comes, that they honour her with the name of Good Fortune. Those, on the contrary, who are so dejected, and stretch out their Arms, represent the Persons from whom she hath taken away what she had given them, and accordingly they call her Ill Fortune. What presents, reply'd I, can she make them, that they should be so jocund, after the receipt thereof, and what can she take away from the others, that should put them into so great a Consternation? It is that, reply'd he, which we ordinarily imagine to be the true Goods, as Wealth, Reputation, Nobility, Children, Soveraignty, Kingdoms, and all the other things of that nature. But we shall have occasion to speak of them elsewhere. Let us now go on with the explication of our Picture.
Do you not observe, that when some have past that Gate, there is above [Page 139] it another Enclosure beyond which there are certain Women, who may be noted by their dresses to be of ill demeanour? I observe them very well, reply'd I.
Those, said he, are named Incontinence, Luxury, Rapine, and Flattery. They are there set, as it were Sentinels, to take notice of those who have received any favour from Fortune, and when they can meet with any one, they are extreamly glad. They embrace him, and treat him with great kindness; they promise him a pleasant Life, and exempted from all kind of trouble and crosses. In fine, if they can persuade him, and if he once resigns himself up to pleasures, that Life is indeed delightfull to him for a time; but it will not be long after he hath tasted of its enjoyments, ere he will be of a contrary Opinion, and find nothing but bitterness in it, and when he begins to come to himself, he is too late convinc'd, that he hath not enjoy'd any true pleasure, that he hath [Page 140] ruin'd himself, and that people laugh at him. For when he hath squander'd away all that Fortune had bestow'd on him, he becomes a Slave to those Strumpets, and is reduc'd to a necessity of undertaking all sorts of wicked actions, even to those that are most prejudicial to himself, and such as hurry him to the precipice of destruction. As for example, to Steal, to commit Sacriledge by the robbing of Temples, to betray his best Friends, in a word, to commit all sorts of crimes and unrighteous Acts. In fine, when he is come to the height of his wickedness, he is deliver'd up into the hands of Punishment. Who is that Woman you speak of? Do you not perceive behind there, a little Door, and a narrow and very obscure Dungeon, at which may be seen the glimpse of certain Women that are nasty, and cover'd only with dirty rags and tatters? Yea, reply'd I, I do see them very well. She who hath a whip in her hand, saies the Old man, is called Punishment. She who hath her head bending [Page 141] down towards her knees, is Sadness. And the other, that tares her hair, is called Misery. And for the deformed and dreadful-look'd-man, who stands neer those Women, and who is lean and stark-naked, he is called Mourning. That other Woman, who is behind him, is his Sister, named Rage, or Despaire. To these horrid Monsters is this miserable man first deliver'd, that he may lead a Life with them, in Punishments and Torments. A while after, he is dragg'd into another House, which is no less terrible than the former. It is that of Misfortune. There must he spend the remainder of his days, in perpetual calamities. What becomes of him at last, said I? If it happen, reply'd he, that he makes his applications to Repentance, she recovers him out of that unhappy condition, she works a change in his opinion and will, and re-excites in him a desire of applying himself to True Doctrine; though Opinion may afterwards conduct him sometimes to False Doctrine. So that if he follow [Page 142] the Opinion which guides him to True Doctrine, she cleanses him of his former errors, and he becomes happy for the remainder of his days. But if on the contrary he be still seduc'd by False Doctrine, he will run the hazard of a relapse into his former sentiments, and return into the same condition, wherein he was before.
But who is that False Doctrine you speak of, said I? Do you not perceive that other Enclosure said he? I do, said I. On the outside of it, said he, towards the Gate there stands a Woman advantageously dress'd, yet seems to betray something of modesty. She it is whom the greatest part of Men, and particularly those who are excellent for their internal Endowments, call Doctrine, though she never was such, and that that name is falsely attributed to her. And yet those who are desirous to be happy, and come to True Doctrine, do first take their way to her. Not but that there is another Way, but that [Page 143] this is the more ordinary. As to the Men, whom you see walking in that Enclosure, they are the followers of that False Doctrine, who are seduced and deceived with an imagination of her being the True Doctrine. They are known by the names of Poets, Orators, Logicians, Musicians, Arithmeticians, Geometricians, Astrologers, Epicureans, Peripateticks, Criticks, and all the others, of that qualification.
Who are those Women, who seem to run to and fro, and with whom you said a while since that Incontinence was? How come they within that second Enclosure? you are not mistaken, reply'd he; they are indeed the very same. They sometimes advance so farr. But they come not thither so oft as they do within the first Enclosure. Nay sometimes Opinions get in there. For those whom you see there have still within them some remainders of the Drink which Imposture had presented them withall. They are still attended by Ignorance and Extravagance, [Page 144] and they will never quit those inconsiderate Opinions, and will not be disengag'd from those other vicious inclinations, till such time as having forsaken that False Doctrine, they enter into the way of True Science, to take an Antidote, for the disburthening themselves of all their evil Opinions, and the dispelling of their Ignorance, and the other vices wherewith they are infected. For as long as they shall continue in false Opinion, they will never be able to recover their Liberty, nor oppose the least evil, by the means of those sorts of Sciences. I pray tell me, where is the Way which conducts men to True Doctrine. Do you perceive, said he, at the top of the Mount, a certain place, which is desert, and not inhabited. Very well answer'd I. You see also, continu'd he, a little Gate, before which there is a Way, wherein there are few persons to be met, because it seems to be inaccessible, by reason of its cragginess and difficulty of ascent? I see all that, said I; you are much in the right. [Page 145] when you say that way is very hardly passable. If you look very narrowly, a litle beyond it, there is an extraordinay high Hill, whereof the way is very narrow, and come pass'd of all sides with precipices? Very true.
You are to know, that that is the Way which conducts to True Doctrine, and is, as you may observe, very hard to be discover'd. But do you consider also, that, upon that Hill, there is a great and high Rock, very steepy all about, on which there are two Women, strong and robust, which stretch out their Arms to all? I see them very well, how are they called? One is called Continence; the other, Patience. They are Sisters. The reason of their stretching forth their hands so willingly to such persons as present themselves, is to exhort those who are in their Way to take heart, and not to put a check to their progress, out of any discouragement; and it is also to advertise them, that they have not long to suffer, [Page 146] ere they come into the right way.
I would fain know, when with much difficulty they have got to that Rock, how they will be able to ascend any higher; for I can perceive no path, nor tract in which they may go? Those two Women, reply'd he, come down from the top of the Rock towards them, and draw them up, where they give them the convenience to rest themselves, and take their breath. Then they give them courage and new strength, and promise them that they will be their guides to bring them to True Doctrine. In fine they shew them, that the way to her is pleasant, easy, and free from all misfortune.
But, added he, do you perceive, near that little Copse of Wood, a Place, which is no less divertive, as well by reason of the great lightsomeness of it, as for that it represents a delightful Meadow? You see also in the middle, another [Page 147] Enclosure, and another Gate? It is very right, reply'd I. That place is called the Seat and Mansion of the Blessed. It is there the Vertues and Felicity have established their Throne.
O how pleasant does that place seem to be! cry'd I. Do you not farther observe, said he, that towards the Gate, there is a Woman very modestly clad, of a grave look, and who yet is extreamly beautiful, though she be well advanc'd in years? she is not made standing on a Ball, as Fortune is; on the contrary, she sitss down upon a square stone, which is firm and immoveable. On both sides of her are two Women, who in likelyhood are her Daughters. What you say is true. She in the midst, reply'd he, is True Doctrine, and the two others are named Truth and Persuasion. She is seated on a square stone, to shew Travellers, that the way which leads to her is firm, and secure, and to raise in those, who receive any presents from her hands, [Page 148] an apprehension that her gifts are as certain as those of Fortune are unconstant, and that they shall never be disturbed in the enjoyment of their Goods. What is she able to give? Assurance and quiet in their possessions reply'd he. But what is the excellency of those presents? They have the virtue of assuring Men, that there shall not happen to them the least dissatisfaction in Life. O ye just Gods! what attractive gifts are these? But how comes it, said I, that True Doctrine is set without the Enclosure? It is to cure those who come to her, and to administer to them a certain Medicine, to the end that, being purged, she may conduct them to the Vertues. How can that be done reply'd I? I do not comprehend what you say. You will comprehend it within a short time, reply'd he. The case here is the same as with a man cast down by a great sickness, whom they are conducting to a Physician. First of all the Physitian makes use of Purgatives, Whereby all the ill humours he hath in the Body may be dislog'd; [Page 149] then he restores him by degrees to his strength, and in fine recovers him to his former health. But if the sick person will not obey him, no wonder if he relapse into the violence of his Disease.
'Tis enough, answer'd I, what your meaning is, I now fully understand. In like manner, continu'd he; if any one put himself into the hands of True Doctrine; she treats him, and gives him of a drink, whereby she communicates her vertue to him, that, being purged, and having disburthen'd himself of all that was evil, as for instance, the Ignorance and Errour he had taken of Imposture, and all other Vices, wherewith he had been fill'd in the first Enclosure, as Arrogance, Avarice, Wrath, Covetuousness, and Incontinence, she may bring him to Science, and the other Vertues. Who are those Women, said I?
[Page 150] What, said he, do you not see, reply'd he, that within that Gate, there is a company of fair Ladies, very plainly cloath'd, and yet have all the attractions and all the modesty could be wish'd in them? I see them very well, reply'd I; but I pray tell me their names. The chiefest of them is Science; her other Sisters are Fortitude, Justice, Integrity, Temperance, Modesty, Liberality, Continence, and Meekness, beautiful Ladies indeed! cry'd I. What hopes ought we not now to conceive? You may hope any thing, added he, if, perfectly comprehending what I have said, you confirm it by your practise.
We shall endeavour it to the utmost of our power, reply'd I. Which if you do, answer'd he, you will be assuredly happy.
But when they have taken this man into their protection, what becomes of him? Whither do they dispose of him? They conduct him to their Mother, who is named Felicity. [Page 151] Do you observe the Way leading up to the Mountain, which is as it were a Cittadel in the midst of the other Enclosures? Do you also take notice, that at the entrance of it there is a very beautiful Woman, seated on a Throne, very neatly clad, yet without affectation, and Crown'd with Flowers? I see her. Know then that she represents Felicity, reply'd he? Now when any one comes up to the place of her aboad, she and all the other Vertues Crown him, as they do those who have gain'd great Victories. What Battailes hath he gain'd for that, said I? Very great ones, reply'd he. He hath surmounted, and quell'd the dreadful Monsters, which did him a thousand mischiefs, and brought him into slavery. But those noble Victories have made him Master of himself, and those very Monsters, whom he obey'd before, are now become his slaves. What Monsters, are those? First, Errour and Ignorance. What do you not think that they are Monsters? I do, reply'd I, and very dreadful [Page 152] ones. Next, reply'd he, there are Grief, Sadness, Avarice, Incontinence, and all the other Vices of that kind. Then hath he an absolute power over them, and does not obey them, as he did before. O illustrious Actions! O remarkable Victory! But, I pray, tell me, what Vertue hath that Crown wherewith he is adorn'd? O my dear Friend, replies the Old Man, how powerful is that Crown? He who is once adorn'd therewith becomes perfectly happy, and grounds not his hopes upon the happiness of another. They are setled in himself. O the noble way of conquering, cry'd I! But when he is Crown'd, what does he? or whether goes he?
The Vertues bring him back to the place whence he came, and make him see, how unhappy and miserable they are who continue in it, what miscarriages they fall into in Life, how far they are out of the way to Felicity, and how they are led away Captives by their enemies; some, by Incontinence; others, by [Page 153] Avarice; others; by Vanity; and by all the other Vices, wherein they are so entangled, that it is impossible for them to get out of them. So that, for the remainder of their days, they are in perpetual distractions, not able to find out the way, which conducts them to True Doctrine; because they have forgot the percepts and directions, which the Genius had given them, at their first entrance into Life. What you say seems to me to be very true, but I have yet one difficulty to propose. Why do the Vertues shew him the place whence he came? It is, reply'd he, because he had no certain and real knowledg of what passes there; and that, by reason of the Errour and Ignorance, which he had been presented with, by Imposture; he was mistaken in the discerning of Good and Evil. Whence it came to pass, that he led an unhappy Life, and like that of those who had continu'd in it. But having acquired the true Science of things, he hath this happiness, and this advantage, that he may, at [Page 154] his own ease, consider the miseries of others, without the least apprehension of being expos'd thereto himself.
When he hath excercis'd his contemplation upon all that, what becomes of him? He goes up and down, which way he pleases. There is no place, where he is not in safety, as much as if he were in the The entrance of it was so difficult that it seem'd habitable only by the Gods. See Pomp. Mela de sit. Orb. Corycian Cave. For whither soever he goes, he is assur'd, that he shall always live irreproachably, that all people will entertain him, and that with such pleasure and satisfaction, as a sick person does his Physician. How, said I, is he no longer afraid of those Women whom you call Monsters, since he is excepted from all those Evils, which men are subject to through their means?
He absolutely defies them, reply'd he. He shall be no longer tormented, either by Grief, or Vexation, or Incontinence, or Avarice, or Indigence, or any other Monster; [Page 155] because he hath an absolute power over them, nay hath a certain Soverainty over the Evils, whereby he was persecuted before. And as those who have been once stung by a Viper, ordinarily carry about them a Preservative, to secure themselves against the Venome of all other Serpents; so is it not in the power of any thing to hurt him any more; because he always hath the remedy about him.
What you say is admirable, but; I pray, inform me, who they are, whom I perceive coming down from the Hill; some are Crown'd, and betray their joy in their very countenances; others, on the contrary, have their heads and hips all bruis'd, and are detain'd Prisoners by those Women? They who are Crown'd, reply'd he, are such as have been preserv'd by True Doctrine, therefore do they discover their alacrity, and joy. As for the others, who have no Crowns; some of them having been rejected by True Doctrine return from her, [Page 156] Miserable and Unhappy; and the others having spent all their courage, after they had got up as far as Patience, take their way back again, and inconsiderately wander up and down through desolate places. The Women, who follow them, are Affliction, Despair, Ignominy, and Ignorance. If it be as you say, there are no Evils whereby they are not persecuted.
That is also true, reply'd he; but there is yet more in it: when they are come back within the first Enclosure, towards Voluptuousness and Incontinence, they do not accuse themselves of having done amiss, nay, on the contrary, they raile at True Doctrine, they look on all that follow her, as unfortunate and miserable persons, who are got out of the way which ought to be follow'd, and who have lost the Goods, whereof they imagin'd themselves possess'd. What may those Goods be? said I. To tell you in a word, reply'd he, it is Debauchedness and Incontinence. For [Page 157] they place the chief Good, in eating and drinking, as Beasts, do.
I pray, tell me, how you call those Women, who are so chearful and so jocund in their return? They are Opinions, who, having conducted, to True Doctrine, those who are now among the Vertues, are returning back to bring others thither, and to give others an assurance, that such as they have conducted thither are perfectly happy.
Do they go quite to the Vertues, said I? No, for Opinion is not permitted to come up to Science they do not conduct any further than to True Doctrine, and as soon as they have recommended any one into her hands, they immediately return, to find out others. Wherein they may be compar'd to those Vessels, which are fill'd with other Merchandizes, as soon as they are unloaden of what they had before. It must be confess'd, that [Page 158] you make what you say very comprehensible, said he; but you have not yet explicated to me what directions the Genius gives those who enter into Life. Only this; said he, that they be courageous. Do you therefore, my Friends, take courage. For I will give you satisfaction even to the least particulars, so that nothing shall escape your knowledg. Certainly, said I, we are extreamly oblig'd to you.
Whereupon directing his hand again towards the Picture. Do you see, said he, that Woman who is blind, and who stands upon the Ball, whom erewhile we called Fortune? We see her very well. The Genius, reply'd he, gives them this advertisement, that no credit is to be given to what she saies, and absolutely charges them, not to consider what proceeds from her, as any thing certain and stable; since that, in fine, nothing hinders her depriving us of what she gives us, to dispose it into other hands, since [Page 159] it is one of her ordinary pranks. For that reason is it also, that he advises them, not to be overcome by her Presents, not to betray any extraordinary joy, when they happen to us, and, in like manner, not to be dejected, when they are taken away from us; not to afford them our praise, or dispraise, and to have this conceit of her, that she does not any thing by the dictate of reason; but always inconsiderately, and by chance. Thence he also advises us not to admire any thing she does, and not to imitate those deceitful Bankiers, who having received other mens Mony, are as glad, as if it were their own, and are angry when it is called for in from them, as if some great injury were done them: not remembring that it was put into their hands, only for the Creditors convenience to take it in, when he pleas'd. Thus doth the Genius direct us to look on the Favours of Fortune, and to be always mindful, that it is her custom, to take away again whatever she gives, to restore sometimes [Page 160] more than she had ever bestow'd, and to carry away; after all that, not only what she had lately given, but all a man was posses'd of before. Hence is it, that he advises them, to accept of the Goods she gives, and immediately to make their recourse to True Doctrine, who will absolutely secure the possession thereof, if they can be but preserv'd, till they have come up quite to her. For this Doctrine is nothing else but the true Science of such things as are beneficial, and the assured and clear possession thereof. Hence is it, that he minds them of making their applications as soon as they can to her. And if it happen, that they meet with Incontinence or Voluptuousness, he Councils them to get out of their company with the soonest, and not to credit what they say, till they come to False Doctrine. For he enjoyns them to continue there a while, and to take of her what she pleases, as it were by the way, and without making any halt, that they may hasten thence towards True [Page 161] Doctrine. And these are the Instructions which the Genius gives; if any one slights them, or comprehends them not as he ought to do, he becomes a wicked person, and perishes miserably.
This is the Riddle, my Friends, which you see represented in that Embleme. If now you are desirous to put any question to me, for the better understanding of every thing in particular, I am as willing to give you all the satisfaction I can, and not to conceal any thing from you.
You say very well, reply'd I; but if you are so pleas'd, tell us, what the Genius enjoynes them to receive from False Doctrine? Those things, reply'd he, which seem necessary to Life, as Learning, and other things relating to Study, which Plato affirmed had certain curbs to prevent young people from being inclin'd otherwise. Not that they are absolutely necessary in order to an arrival to True [Page 162] Doctrine; for we are not meliorated thereby. Without them, we may come to the perfection of Vertue, but they facilitate our acquest of it, and are not without some advantage. We may, indeed, acquire the knowledg of what is unknown to us, by the means of an Interpreter, explicating to us what we understand not: yet is it better to be acquainted with the Language, and not to stand in need of an Interpreter. So, without these Sciences, nothing obstructs our attaining of Vertue. 'Tis true, they are Ornaments, and excellent Directories, whereby we are illuminated in the pursuit of it; but it follows not, that they, who are endued therewith, are in a better condition, or have a greater bent to goodness, since they are deceiv'd, as well as others, in the knowledg of Good and Evil, and, many times, defiled with all manner of Vices and Misdemeanours. No, no, continu'd he; nothing hinders, but that he; who is come to Learning [Page 163] by Study, and hath attain'd all the Sciences, may be as much inclin'd to Debauchery, Avarice, Incontinence, Injustice, Unfaithfulness, and Extravagance, as another. This we are convinc'd of, by daily experience. Why then should they assume any advantage to themselves above others, in order to their melioration, upon the account of those Sciences? I think we have already sufficiently shewn, by what we have said, that there is no likelyhood of any such thing. It may be, those persons imagine they are in a better condition than others, because they are within the second Enclosure, and consequently at a less distance from True Doctrine. But what advantage is it to them, that they are not at so great a distance from her, as the others, since we sometimes find those persons, who were with Incontinence, come up, from the first Enclosure, to the third, and ascend even to True Doctrine, leaving those Learned [Page 164] men behind them. How then can it be imagin'd, that they should have any Prerogative, since that, many times, with all their Sciences, they are longer than the others, ere they take into the right Way, and discover more difficulty in Learning what they ought to know, in order to their arrival thereto. For they, who are in the second Enclosure, though there were nothing else to be objected against them, profess a knowledg of what they know not: and while they continue in that sentiment, it is impossible they should ever come to True Doctrine. I believe, you also perceive, that the Opinions come from the first Enclosure towards them. Thence comes it, that they are no better than the others, if Repentance do not accompany them, and if they admit not a persuasion of their not having True Science, but that they are still seduced by False Doctrine. For while they remain in that condition, it is impossible they should ever become happy. [Page 165] Therefore, my Friends, you are seriously to endeavour the practise of these Instructions, and to reflect on them, till you have converted them into a habit. Let them be the subject of your most earnest meditation, assuring your selves, that your thoughts cannot be too much fixt upon them, All the rest is, in comparison, nothing considerable, nay it is rather to be look'd on as of no advantage, and superfluous. Be mindful then to do what I tell you; for otherwise, all you have already understood will not be any way beneficial to you.
We shall not be negligent in the doing of it, said I to him: yet give us this further explication, why you put not into the number of Goods, those things which men receive from Fortune, as Life, Health, Wealth, Reputation, Children, Victory, and all other concerns of that kind? Tell us also, why you put not into the number of [Page 166] Evils, those things which are contrary thereto? To be free with you, all you have told us, as to that particular, seems to us a Paradox. I beseech you, take the pains to tell us what you think of it. With all my heart, reply'd the Old Man. Do you think, said he, that Life is a Good, in him, that does not live Well? No, reply'd I; on the contrary, I hold it to be an Evil for him. But as Life seems to me to be an Evil, in those who live Ill; so do I imagine it to be a Good, in those who live Well.
That cannot be, reply'd he, for it is impossible, that the same thing should be both good and bad, inasmuch as it would be, by that means, beneficial and hurtful, the object of desire and aversion, at the same time; which is a contradiction. But let us say more, let us acknowledg, that there is a great difference between living, and living ill. The wicked Life is always an Evil, and Life, indefinitely speaking, cannot [Page 167] be such. Is not that your meaning? It is so, reply'd I. The consequence then will be, reply'd he, that Life is never an Evil, since that, if it were such, it would follow, that there must be somewhat of Evil in those who live Well, since they would have Life, which were an Evil; a position not maintainable. As therefore Life is common to both Good and Bad, it must be necessarily inferr'd, that, of it self, it is neither good nor bad. It may be compar'd to Causticks and Incisions, which may be beneficial to the indispos'd, and hurtful to those who are in health. But that you may the better comprehend this truth, consider in your self, whether you would not prefer a noble and a generous Death, before a wicked, and an infamous Life? I am confident you would not make any pause at it, and that you would embrace Death. No question of it, reply'd I. Then by consequence, said he, Death is no Evil, since it is sometimes more advantageous to dye than to live. The same thing is [Page 168] to be said concerning sickness and health. There are certain times, and certain occurrences, wherein health would be prejudicial to us. And to make it appear that it is so, let us make the same consideration of Wealth. Do we not daily see, that some very rich men live a lewd and miserable Life? No, no, continu'd he, Wealth contributes nothing to happy Life; but, on the contrary, the wealthiest, for the most part, are the most unhappy. Let us then conclude, that it is not Wealth, but True Doctrine that begets an inclination to goodness. And thence it justly follows, that Riches are not to be numbred among Goods, inasmuch as they do not make men better, or more happy. So that, as they are hurtful to those who cannot tell how to use them, so can they not be accounted Goods, since it is sometimes advantageous to be without them. If therefore there be any one that knows how to make good use of them, he shall live happy; if not, he shall be miserable.
[Page 169] In fine, to sum up all in a word, that which creates disorder and confusion in the minds of men, is, the Opinion they have, of these kinds of things. Some shun them, as the source of all Evils, and others seek after them, as true Goods, imagining that by their means only they may become happy. Nay they are so fixt in this persuasion, that to attain these, they make no difficulty of committing the greatest enormities, and most detestable actions. Which happens to them, because they know not the nature of true Good. This I take out of the Latius Version of Odaxius. They know not, that, from Evil, there never proceeds any good. They consider not that most men have acquired their wealth and possessions, by the means of their Crimes, as by Perfidiousness, Robberies, Murthers, Rapine, and other enormous actions. If therefore it be true, that no Good proceeds from Evil, and yet that Riches are many times the production of Crimes, it inevitably follows, that Riches cannot be called Goods. Again, Good and Evil are incompatible; [Page 170] and as it is impossible to acquire Wisdome and Justice by bad actions, so will it not ever be granted, that Extravagance and Injustice can proceed from any good cause. Since therefore it is true, that nothing hinders but that Riches, Glory, Victory, and other things of that kind, may happen to us by lawful ways, let us make this conclusion, that, of themselves, they are neither good nor evil, and that, properly speaking, not any thing but Wisdome, is a Good, and nothing but Folly that is Evil.
A TABLE OF What things are most remarkable in this TREATISE.
- A Grippinus. pag. 20.
- Ambition the cause of all Misfortunes. p. 27.
- Arrian. p. 2, 3, 4, &c. reduc'd Epictetus's Philosophy to writing. p. 7. Is master to Antoninus Pins. 40.
- Aversion. p. 62.
- St. Augustines Character of Epictetus. p. 34.
- Aulus Gellius. p. 3▪ 7, 8, 9. 38, 39, 46.
- Arabick Paraphrase of Cebes's Tablet. p. 124.
- Cebes's Tablet, a Representation of Humane Life. p. 122.
- Caselius. p. 123.
- Celsus. p. 13.
- Duty of Children. p. 90.
- Commentaries of Epictetus. p. 41.
- Constancy. p. 69. 71.
- [Page] Demonax. p. 4.
- Desire. p. 62.
- Diogenes. p. 74.
- Diog. Laertius. p. 17. 110.
- Dion Chrysostome. p. 3.
- Edict against the Philosophers. p. 3. 43.
- Elichman. p. 126.
- Epaphroditus Captain of Nero's Lifeguard. p. 1. Breaks Epictetus's Leg. p. 17.
- Epictetus born at Hierapolis. p. 1. a Slave to Epaphroditus. p. 2. Obtains his liberty. p. 4. Was not married. ibid. Always poor. p. 5. His Modesty. ibid. Humility. p. 6. Wrote nothing. ibid. Is a Lover of neatness. 8. A Cripple. 9. His contempt of great Persons. 11. His admirable Constancy. 13. Is a Stoick. p. 22. An imitator of Socrates, Zeno, and Diogenes. 23. An enemy to the Pyrrhonians. 24. Is nice in point of Friendship. p. 29. His sentiments concerning the Deity, and the immortality of the Soul. 34, 35. Wherein he dissented from the Stoicks. His friendship with Favorinus and Herod the Sophist. 38. Of his death. p. 43.
- Epictetus's life and death written by Arrian. p. 41.
- [Page] Epictetus's stile like that of Socrates. p. 23.
- Epicureans blamed. p. 4.
- Epictetus's Lamp. p. 38.
- Errour. p. 135.
- Eteocles and Polynices. p. 30.
- Eusebius. p. 3. 47, 48.
- Favourites. p. 11.
- Friendship wherein it consists. p. 31.
- Genebrard. p. 40.
- Genius. p. 134.
- Hadrian. p. 4.
- Helene. p. 25.
- Helvidius commended by Epictetus. p. 18, 19.
- Hercules. p. 18.
- Hierapolis. p. 1.
- Humility. p. 6.
- St. Jerome. p. 35.
- Of the Iliad. p. 25.
- Ignorance. p. 135.
- Imposture. p. 135, 153.
- Lateranus commended by Epictetus. p. 16.
- Laughter. p. 101.
- Leonidas. p. 9.
- [Page] Life compar'd to a Banquet. p. 73.
- Life compar'd to a Walk. p. 104.
- Lipsius. p. 40.
- Lucian. 4. 38.
- Lycurgus. p. 22.
- Macrobius. p. 9.
- Marcus Aurelius. p. 38. 41.
- Marks of a wise man. p. 111.
- Marriage not consistent with the state of perfection. p. 4.
- Mascardi. p. 124.
- Menelaus. p. 25, 31.
- Of Opinion and Fortune. p. 24.
- Opinions the cause of our misfortunes. p. 64, 74.
- Origen. p. 12.
- Ostentation. p. 66.
- Paris. 25, 31.
- Patience. p. 69.
- Philarchus. p. 41.
- Planudes. p. 9.
- Plato. p. 27.
- Plutarch. p. 20.
- Pomponius Mela. p. 154.
- Politian. p. 61.
- Prayer. p. 117.
- [Page] Pyrrho. p. 21.
- Religion. p. 91, &c.
- Remedies against all accidents. p. 68.
- Reservedness in judging others. 108.
- Resolution. p. 102.
- Rufus. p. 28.
- Salmasius. p. 43, &c. 126.
- Self-distrust. p. 71.
- Seneca. p. 36.
- Sickness. p. 68.
- Silence. p. 96.
- Simplicius. 13, 40, 64, 110.
- The saying of Socrates to Crica. p. 117.
- South-sayers. p. 93.
- Spartian. p. 34, 40.
- Sphinx. p. 132.
- Stobaeus. p. 42.
- Suetonius. p. 3.
- Suidas. p. 42.
- Temperance. p. 68.
- Tertullian. p. 123.
- Themistius. p. 38.
- Theatres. p. 98.
- Things dependent or not dependent on us. p. 59, 60.
- [Page] Vertue p. 70. Exhortation thereto. p. 114.
- Vespasian. p. 19.
- Vincentius Obsopaeus. p. 9.
- Vulgar apprehensions. p. 78.
- Wolsius. p. 36, 42, 61, 122.
Errata.
PAge 11. Line 12. r. Populace. p. 39. l. 21. r. presumptuous. p. 50. l. 3. r. this is. p. 65. l. 11. heer. p. 80. l. 14. r. all ways. p. 87. l. 13. r. upon them. p. 97. l. 3. r. loud. p. 104. l. 12. r. Nails which. p. 107. l. 12. r. injures you. p. 143. l. 5. r. com- p. 144. l. 7: r. track. p 158. l. 2. r. said 1.