Stockdale Center for Ethical Leadership

The Discourses of Epictetus with Running Commentary - Book I, Chapter 1

WAS POSTED ON: Thursday, July 11, 2024 12:00 AM BY Shaun Baker

A brief introductory Note:

Arrian, a student of Epictetus, wrote eight books, The Discourses of Epictetus, of which four survive. Selections from those eight books were also collected in the Enchiridion, or "Handbook." The Discourses give us a quite vivid portrait of the man who inspired them, and also give us fascinating glimpses into his singular didactic style. We very quickly see how Epictetus ran his school, the nature of its curricula, and how he mentored his students. We see his earnestness, his zeal, and piety, but we also get a good dose of his sharp and often acerbic sense of humor. It is no wonder that Arrian felt he 'had to get this down.'

It also can be quite a challenge to understand exactly what is being said in the chapters of the Discourses. The text is composed of lecture notes, we must recall. The subject matter sometimes jumps from one subject to another, veering into matters that are not obviously related to what we have just read. Sometimes these tangential matters are finally related back to things brought up earlier, or to the main topic of the chapter. Sometimes they are not. This leaves the reader with the task of finding the connections. Epictetus deliberately ‘weaves’ in an almost conversational style. His is most certainly not the style of the tightly outlined academic’s essay. He does not write like Aristotle, nor, if we are to believe his own testimony, like the Stoic school’s founders (chief among them, Chrysippus). Yet, we can see, as we ride his ‘weave’ that he was quite versed in all aspects of the school’s doctrine.

So, with that genesis, and that style of writing in mind, I've set out to read through the four extant books, a chapter at a time, while also breaking up the text with commentary, (essentially my best guesses as to how we might flesh out some of his ‘weave,’ (what can be very brief or truncated sketches of dialogue and argumentation), as it was no easy business for Arrian to get down what he had experienced in the lecture halls of Nicopolis!

A last note: I use the Oldfather translation in the Loeb Classical Library, and have taken some editorial and interpretive liberties where I thought it necessary. But, I've tried to keep such changes to a minimum. The advantage of using this translation is that it can easily be accessed via various online sources, and given that it presents, along with Oldfather’s translation and footnotes, the text in the original Greek, it is quite useful for those that would like to check any translations or interpretations against the original.

Book I Chapter 1

Of the Things Which are Under Our Control and Not Under Our Control

If you were to ask Arrian or Epictetus what the most central purpose of Stoic training and curricula is, they might ask you to look at what is offered as the opening salvo in both the Discourses and in the Enchiridion (or Handbook). The latter presents what we can describe as a pared down ‘Sanka freeze dried’ version of the former. The first chapter of each book focuses on the distinction between those things that are ‘up to us’ and those that are not. In the literature the concept is most often labeled, somewhat pretentiously as ‘the dichotomy of control.’ We might, more simply, and slightly less pretentiously label it the ‘Stoic Control Thesis.’

In the non-freeze-dried presentation we have in the opener of the Discourses, we have Epictetus in fine form, viz his ‘weave’: In the process of detailing the content of this basic and fundamental Stoic thesis, we find Epictetus ranging over the whole of Stoic thought, engaging metaphysical, theological, psychological, and epistemological questions. In a way, the weave in this first chapter of the Discourses functions as good introductory chapters are supposed to, giving us a taste of topics that will be more finely explored, as things unfold, in following chapters.

As compared to the considerably briefer first chapter of the Enchiridion, it covers much more ground. It begins with a fascinating discussion of the faculty of reason, as understood by Stoics. We will see that this faculty is conceived in a much more robust way than we might expect. Reason is not, as it is for us moderns, merely deductive, inductive or abductive inference. The faculty involves these, uses them as tools, but is much more practically oriented on Epictetus’s view. Reason is a faculty of determining appropriate occasions of use for all of the elements that constitute the panoply of human capabilities:

Among the arts and faculties in general you will find none that is self-contemplative, and therefore none that is either self-approving or self-disapproving. How far does the art of grammar possess the power of contemplation? Only so far as to pass judgement upon what is written. How far the art of music? Only so far as to pass judgement upon the melody.

What exactly is meant here by saying that an art or capacity has the ability to “contemplate”? Put simply, Epictetus means to point out that each art or skill, when exercised, is able to judge whether a specific instance of an exercise of the activity it ‘oversees’ is well-executed or not. The accomplished grammarian can look at a sentence and tell whether it comports with a given language’s formulation rules. An accomplished musician can tell whether a given performance is up to snuff with regard to its corresponding score, or whether it is technically proficient.

Does either of them, then, contemplate itself? Not at all. But, if you are writing to a friend and are at a loss as to what to write, the art of grammar will tell you; yet whether or not you are to write to your friend at all, the art of grammar will not tell.

The same holds true of the art of music with regard to melodies; but whether you are, at this moment, to sing and play on the lyre, or neither sing nor play, it will not tell.

Neither the accomplished grammarian, nor the accomplished musician is, merely by virtue of his/her expertise in these special areas, able, by ‘contemplating’ (using that expertise), to tell when it is appropriate, all things considered, to write or perform music.

What art or faculty, then, will tell? That one which contemplates both itself and everything else. And what is this?

The reasoning faculty; for this is the only one we have inherited which will take knowledge both of itself, - what it is, and of what it is capable, and how valuable a gift it is to us - and likewise of all the other faculties. For what else is it that tells us gold is beautiful? For the gold itself does not tell us. Clearly it is the faculty which makes use of external impressions.

What else judges with discernment the art of music, the art of grammar, the other arts and faculties, passing judgement upon their uses and pointing out the seasonable occasions for their use? Nothing else does.

‘The faculty of reason’ is, unlike these particular arts, one that can undertake such ‘all things considered contemplation.’ It is the one human faculty that is able to tell when it is either appropriate or inappropriate to exercise some particular skill or art. Note here: Epictetus indicates here by ‘the faculty of reason’ something of wider scope than ‘mere’ reason, mere use of logic. This faculty he is describing not only uses deductive, inductive or abductive logic, but also does so as it determines appropriate use of the particular arts or skills, and it does this by taking cognizance of the given circumstances of their potential use.

Not only that, but this faculty can take a look at itself, and determine when it would be appropriate for it to exercise its own abilities, and when not. Finally, it also is somehow involved in aesthetic judgments, as the example of gold demonstrates.

As was fitting, therefore, the gods have put under our control only the most excellent faculty of all and that which dominates the rest, namely, the power to make correct use of external impressions, but all the others they have not put under our control. Was it indeed because they would not?

Epictetus now introduces us, for the first time, to something else that this ‘reasoning faculty’ can oversee: It is not only arts and skills that it can supervise. It is also able to make similar judgement with regard to things presented us by other human ‘faculties’; sensory faculties, emotional faculties, even, as we will see later, that faculty we have of what can be called ‘snap judgments.’ These are collectively what he refers to with the phrase ‘external impressions.’ The experiences we have of these things are not under our complete control. They simply happen to us. How we respond to these can be mediated through the ‘all-things-considered’ faculty of reason, and the relative strength of that faculty over our choices, as compared to the ‘snap judgments’ that come with the other faculties, can be strengthened in the face of these other things, these ‘external (to reason) impressions,’ by careful and conscientious practice.

Now, being a philosopher, Epictetus wants to explore beyond this a bit. He ranges into the metaphysical or theological next.

We can ask why it is we only have this level of control over ourselves, and why we do not have complete control of all of our other faculties. What is the answer to that question? In terms of theistic explanations, we can ask that question in this way: Did the gods choose to limit our powers in this particular way, or was it, in some way, not possible to grant us that amount of power which would have given us complete control over the full suite of our human faculties?

I for one, think that had they been able to, they would have entrusted us with control of the others also; but they were quite unable to do that. For, since we are upon earth and trammeled by an earthy body and by earthy associates, how was it possible that, in respect of them, we should not be hampered by external things?

Epictetus seems to be asserting a conditional here: The Gods wanted to create rational agents. For some unstated reason though, the Gods could only create physical or material rational agents. Granted the gods were limited to creating rational beings that are physical in nature, there were certain limitations, viz those agents, that resulted. Again, these were limitations the gods were not at liberty to change, for they could not. It was, to state things clearly and unequivocally, not possible for them. Furthermore, the limitations or constraints within which they operated have to do with nearly all the faculties which are tied up with our navigation of the world and materially fending for ourselves. None of these faculties is under the complete control of these agents (ourselves) save one; the ability to reason.

The result: The more primitive of those faculties, those most closely tied to maintenance of that physical nature, are outside of physical agents’ complete individual control. Indeed, as we survey the world of living beings, we see many species that have these faculties and do not have reason, and we also see that these faculties do a fairly reliable job of ‘looking out’ for the welfare of these organisms. Be that as it may, we see that these faculties can ‘make mistakes,’ even fatal mistakes. We also see that reason can pre-empt or prevent those mistakes. But, reasoning beings are in a position where they cannot turn those other faculties on or off. They have to live with the fact that these other more primitive faculties are autonomic in nature. Their autonomic functioning does provide these reasoning beings with valuable information, but it must be sifted. As to why the gods were unable to form rational beings who were not also encumbered by the autonomic faculties, Epictetus doesn’t speculate in any detail. Still, he has us assume this state of affairs. He has us imagine Epictetus asking Zeus to explain himself. Zeus’s response?

But what says Zeus?

"Epictetus, had it been possible I should have made both this paltry body and this small estate of thine free and unhampered. But as it is (let this point not escape thee) this body is not thine own, but only clay cunningly compounded. Yet, since I could not give thee this (utter unhampered control over your body and estate), we have given thee a certain portion of ourselves, (this faculty of choice and refusal, of considered response to desire and aversion, or, in a word, the faculty which makes use of external impressions). If thou care for this and place all that thou hast therein, thou shalt never be thwarted, never hampered, shalt not groan, shalt not blame, shalt not flatter any man.

“What then? Are these things small in thy sight?” (He is here referencing man’s rationality.)

"Far be it from me!"

"Art thou, then, content with them?"

"I pray the Gods I may be."

That’s very short for: It isn’t going to be easy, but I’d better make the most of the fact that I do have complete control over how I choose to react to those things over which I do not have complete control. In a practical sense, this amounts to my doing two things over and over again; (1) asking myself whether I do, in fact have control over the things toward which I find myself becoming vexed, and when the answer is in the negative: (2) asking myself if I have control over my own vexation, and whether or not I can use my faculty of reason to find a good and judicious response or course of action in the face of those things that that have given me such vexation in the circumstance.

Again, he wants to remind us, (and will do so again and again as we proceed with the Discourses), it’s not going to be easy. We will find ourselves having to do this throughout our lives, because we are necessarily beings in this world, tied to it materially, always having to do things to maintain life and property, and always having to deal with other people. By the same token, we should also take note of the one thing over which we do have complete control, that is our Moral Purpose (to use the term introduced by Oldfather in the translation we are using). That is our rational and moral agency. The state of that thing (which is in fact our very person) is completely up to us. It is the one thing Zeus has given over to our complete possession. He intends for us to exercise that complete control, and for us to maintain the health of that Moral Purpose. So, we should give primary attention to that task. This is easier said than done, as we will see with examples peppered throughout the Discourses. So, to each one of us Epictetus seems to say, ‘buckle up Buster, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.’

But now, although it is in our power to care for one thing only and devote ourselves to that one, we choose rather to care for many things, and to be tied fast to many, even to our body and our estate and brother and friend and child and slave. Wherefore, being tied fast to many things, we are burdened and dragged down by them.

Epictetus: ‘Each of these things listed here is a thing or person over which we do not have complete control, but for the situation of which we do care. Because that is the case we take them on as burdens.’

We must note here the language. It seems off-putting to refer to family members as ‘burdens,’ as if Epictetus is advocating for our adoption of a cold distance as counter. Surely children, for instance have more going for them than being ‘burdens?”

And what about slaves? We don’t own slaves these days. For today’s reader, I think it’s useful to substitute ‘employees’ ‘work-peers’ here or perhaps ‘students,’ for the category ‘slave.’ In order to capture relevant sorts of social relationships.

Is distance and removing oneself from social commerce, (is the life of a hermit), what Epictetus is selling us here? At first blush, it may seem so. It sure seems clear that we would want to escape things that are ‘dragging us down.’

We’ll see as things unfold, that he is not advocating this. We’re going to leave that question hanging for now. He does want us to note though, that we are typically quite concerned with these sorts of relationships, and they can be sources of great vexation. It is in our nature to be socially invested. Now, Epictetus, as is his wont, will jump around a bit, giving us other examples of contingencies, things in life over which we do not have utter control, and which can be sources of great distress.

Travel is a big one:

That is why, if the weather keeps us from sailing, we sit down, fidget and keep constantly peering about.

" What wind is blowing?" we ask.

“Boreas.” (The North Wind)

''What have we to do with it? When will Zephyrus (The West Wind) blow?”

"When it pleases, good sir, or rather when Aeolus pleases. For God has not made you steward of the winds, but Aeolus."

“What then for now?"

“We must make the best of what is under our control, and take the rest as its nature is. "

“How, then, is its nature? "

“As God wills."

This brings to mind the attitude we must take about air-travel, and the contingencies of life at the airport.

Next, another set of examples makes its first appearance (the first of many). Epictetus reminds his ambitious students, and us, of just how tenuous life could be in Rome, and what great risks people opened themselves up to in the interests of public service and political or reputational ambition. (Count yourself lucky you live today):

“Must I, then, be the only one to be beheaded now?"

Yikes! How is that for a jarring transition? (We will see Epictetus do this time and again as we read the Discourses.)

“Why, did you want everybody to be beheaded for your consolation? Are you not willing to stretch out your neck as did a certain Lateranus at Rome, when Nero ordered him to be beheaded? For he stretched out his neck and received the blow, but, as it was a feeble one, he shrank back for an instant, and then stretched out his neck again.

The message here is that when you find yourself in straits from which it is not possible to escape, you will always still have the choice as to how you will behave as you suffer that fate. He has us imagine how we might respond to an impending execution. We might find ourselves asking “why me?” or a variant; “why only me.” With that latter question in mind, he then asks us if we would really want to have others forced to share that fate with us. The answer would be ‘no’ of course.

So, that being the case, one’s next question ought to be how best to endure the execution. The example is one terrible to contemplate and apparently did occur; Lateranus was the victim of a botched attempt. How should one behave in this circumstance?

One could ‘shrink’ back, and, no doubt, one’s body would do this in any case. But, this will not enable you to escape your fate, so best, he argues, that you extend your neck, and get it over with, and do this with dignity. Again, a grizzly example, from a grizzly time. Nero’s reign was truly awful, he being but one in a series of depraved emperors, and such instances of ordered executions of rivals were common at that time.

Epictetus now gives us some less-extreme examples of situations typical of that time, again derived from his observations of typical experiences in Nero’s Rome: One involves Epictetus’s old master, a right hand man of Nero’s:

“Yes, and before that, when Epaphroditus, a freedman of Nero, approached a certain man and, when asked about the ground of his offence, he answered,

" If I wish anything, I will speak to your master."

It is not altogether clear what this is intended to mean, but again, it appears to boil down to being a good instance of someone that thought clearly and quickly about where the locus of decision regarding his personal fate truly lay, and decided to waste no effort on a person that did not have direct role in that decision. We must remember that Epaphroditus was a former slave, a freedman, essentially an intimate and functionary of Nero’s. (In fact, he ultimately aided him in committing suicide.) I suspect that this un-named man, having been charged by Nero, and having his fate in Nero’s hands, had decided that his prospects were not good. Granted that, he decided it was wasted effort to engage Epaphroditus in any sort of appeal. If he were to appeal, it would be directly to the man with the power. He recognized it was within his personal power to appeal, when the time came, and would do so, but only to the person ultimately responsible. Again, resigned to his fate, this man appears to be ready for it, and also determined to suffer it with dignity, not begging a lackey for his life. (We will see further episodes of life with Epaphroditus recalled by Epictetus! He has some unflattering portrayals.)

What aid, then, must we have ready at hand in such circumstances? Why, what else other than the knowledge of what is mine, and what is not mine, and what is permitted me, and what is not permitted me?”

Permissions are given by nature and by circumstance. What is and is not in one’s possession is again, determined by nature and circumstance. Nature gives us absolute control over how we decidedly take things. Circumstance may make it impossible for us to continue life as we are accustomed, or it may make continued life possible only at the cost of giving ourselves over to the control of others. We then must choose if we shall continue in life. When faced with death Epictetus suggests we ask questions like these:

“I must die.”

“Must I, then, die groaning too?”

By nature, we are all fated to die. Our particular circumstances may bring this about earlier than we expect. In Nero’s Rome, this was not uncommon for men considered to be threats. In either case, (terminating a long natural life, or in the face of being killed) we have the choice as to the manner in which we accept that fate. We can ‘groan,’ become vexed, or we can comport ourselves in a more dignified manner. There is nothing requiring the former, we always have the power to do the latter. We should take that dignified rout, if for no other reason, than to demonstrate who it is that has ultimate power over ourselves, our persons, our core Moral Purpose and dignity.

“I must be fettered.”

“And, wailing too?”

Again, if we choose to wail, to become vexed about something that we do not ultimately control, we are expending energy and traumatizing ourselves for no good reason. It is best to stay clearheaded as to who has ultimate control over our physical bodies’ freedom, and who has control over our persons, our minds, our Moral Purpose’s freedom and comportment. People like Nero have the former. That’s not ideal, but so it goes. We each have the latter. So, we should, as fully as possible, exercise that control. Do not give the bully or tyrant the satisfaction of wailing. They may possess our bodies, and can chain them, but they do not possess our persons. Realize that.

“I must go into exile.”

“Does anyone, then, keep me from going with a smile and cheerful and serene?”

Are you getting the idea that political life in Rome was risky, tenuous, and highly contingent business? Are you getting the idea that people who entered the public arena opened themselves up to worry and vexation over their personal fates, due the capricious nature of power politics?

Well, you should be! And, what was Epictetus’s point in exhortation to rehearse all these possibilities? His message was aimed at those young men-on-the-move that were his students. They were publicly engaged, and wanted political life. They wanted Rome. Many were military men, eager to serve. He wanted these men to enter that public life fully informed. It’s as if he were standing before them giving fair warning:

‘Just in case you do not have a full picture of those risks you are taking on, you’d better get clear about them before you decide to dive in.”

“Here are some other possible fates you may suffer: Imprisonment, interrogation, torture, banishment, execution, the rigors of military life, politically motivated trials, moral extortion. You, my fine young men, are choosing to play the game that carries these as potential consequences. So, you’d best rehearse how you would respond to such threats if you would like to approach them as a Stoic”:

"Tell your secrets."

“I say not a word; for this is under my control.”

"But I will fetter you."

“What is that you say, man, you will fetter me? My leg you will fetter, but my Moral Purpose not even Zeus himself has power to overcome.”

“I will throw you into prison."

“My paltry body, rather!”

"I will behead you."

“Well, when did I ever tell you that mine was the only neck that could not be severed?”

(This section of dialogue brings to mind Admiral Stockdale)

This is quite the laundry list of all potential risks of entering Roman public or military life and politics. His advice to his students is straightforward. Do your best to know what you are getting into, and, if you do want to enter that fray, and want to do so in a way that will nevertheless allow you to preserve your Moral Purpose, your dignity, then you should also rehearse these all-to-common situations, and build some muscle memory, (as it were), so that, when the time comes, as it inevitably will, you are better able to handle the real adversity you are going to encounter: Use the hypothetical to prepare for the actual:

These are the lessons that philosophers ought to rehearse, these they ought to write down daily, in these they ought to exercise themselves.

Thrasea used to say:

" I would rather be killed to-day than banished to-morrow."

What, then, did Rufus say to him?

"If you choose death as the heavier of two misfortunes, what folly of choice! But if as the lighter, who has given you the choice? Are you not willing to practice contentment with what has been given you?"

The idea here is that one had better seriously consider what one means by saying things like Thrasea said. He says he would prefer death to banishment. If he was very serious about considering death the lesser of two evils, then, supposing that he is taken seriously by those that do have the power to exile or execute him, he had better act consistently with his stated preferences. For, in an ultimate sense, by entering the political or public arena, and by stating his preferences thusly, he has exercised his own power, in effect saying that when his own life is given over to those others, as it will likely be at some point, they will rightly say he has volunteered with this statement, in effect, and has thereby left himself open to the practical results thereof. It’s bad form to belly-ache about a death sentence after the fact of having done this. You can avoid all that if you go into things with proper circumspection, carefully considering the role and results. If after doing so, one does decide to abstain from entering the arena, there is no shame in that. What is more, if such a man does truly believe that failure of Moral Purpose is a worse fate than death, and says so, here again, he should follow through.

Another example:

Wherefore, what was it that Agrippinus used to remark?

"I am not standing in my own way."

Word was brought him, "Your case is being tried in the Senate."

“Good luck betide! But it is the fifth hour now,” (he was in the habit of taking his exercise and then a cold bath at that hour), "let us be off and take our exercise."

After he had finished his exercise someone came and told him, "You have been condemned."

"To exile," he asked, "or to death?"

"To exile."

"What about my property?"

"It has not been confiscated."

" Well then, let us go to Aricia and take our lunch there."

This is what it means to have rehearsed the lessons one ought to rehearse, to have set desire and aversion free from every hindrance and made them proof against chance.

“I must die? If forthwith, I die; and if a little later, I will take lunch now, since the hour for lunch has come, and afterwards I will die at the appointed time.”

“How?”

“As becomes the man who is giving back that which was another's.”

This use of the word ‘another’ has a purposefully ambiguous reference for Epictetus: That life this hypothetical man is to give back is ultimately the property of the Gods, and he needs to keep that in mind throughout his life. It is an item on loan, and not completely his to control. That will eventuate in other human beings threatening that property from time to time. Again, for the Stoic this ‘loaned’ status is something we can infer directly from the fact that no man or woman has complete and utter control over life’s continuance. Indeed, one need not be a theist of any variety to be able to arrive at the conclusion. It is as plain a matter of fact as any other we will encounter in our experience. But, each of us does have complete and utter control over how we will respond as we live that life; how we will deal with the benefits, adversities and risks it, and the various roles we take on as we live, introduce to us. As long as we are alive and capable, we have this capacity. This holds even in that ultimate eventuality, how we will respond to death.

A very telling and striking turn of phrase is used when Epictetus considers the results of such rehearsals, if made a life-long habit: These exercises, if seriously undertaken over years, will ‘set desire and aversion free from every hindrance,’ and also will make these same desires and aversions ‘proof against chance.’

What exactly does this mean and how exactly does it work? How should we unpack these turns of phrase? Let’s take them one at a time and expand. First, in what exact sense is it possible to free desires and aversions from ‘hindrance?’ Second, how can such freed desires and aversions function as ‘proof against chance’? These are matters that will be addressed in Chapter II, (and indeed throughout the Discourses). Before we move to that chapter, and its treatment of these ideas, though, we can briefly sketch two answers as a transition to that chapter.

The hypothetical situations with which Epictetus confronts his pupils are intended to focus our attention on, and be exercises in, distinguishing between those aspects of life that are out of our control and those that are not.

Epictetus’s claim, as mentor and teacher is this: If we undertake regular use of the sort of hypothetical exercises he presents throughout the Discourses, the eventual result will be that our desires and aversions will be shaped in such a way that the satisfactions they aim for will be primarily, if not exclusively, geared toward those things over which we have true control. We will obviously find ourselves cognizant of the real-world implications of this fundamental distinction, and in the position of having our reactions habituated, in growing degree, in light of that knowledge. Because of this, as we progress, our ‘desires and aversions’ will not be as ‘hindered’ or thwarted by the exigencies in life, those things outside our control, as they would be, if their primary focus was on those ‘externals,’ those things over which we lack ultimate control. Another way to put this: After much practice, we will find ourselves to be lesser and lesser impacted by those exigencies, those events brought about by capricious ‘chance,’ those things external to us, and thus outside our control. We will come, more and more, to expect such turns of events, and not be shocked by them. We will come, more and more, to aim our desires and aversions toward that thing over which we do have utter control, the state of our person, our Moral Purpose.

Category: Academics, Philosophy and History

Disclaimer: The views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the United States Naval Academy, Department of the Navy, or Department of Defense.

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The Discourses of Epictetus with Running Commentary - Book I, Chapter 1

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